Explosive
by EpicallyObsessed
Summary: Kendall Knight is bored. Working at one of the top restaurants in Napa Valley is supposed to be the cherry on top to a promising career, but instead, it's a creative desert. So when he gets an offer that's too good to pass up, he takes a chance. He thought turning his pastry series into a hit would be easy, but when he meets his producer, he realizes he might be in over his head.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone! A new story is here! :D**

**So, this is one that I've been working on for a little while, and since We're so Metal and Chances are coming to an end soon, I figured now would be a good time to share some of what I've been working on lately. :)**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

The crash woke Kendall up, the sharp metallic clang of stainless steel against the deeper, resonating thud of the wood floor.

Almost certain dents in his favorite copper pot-_check_.

Scratches on the hardwood floor their landlord would definitely freak about-_check_.

Bruises his roommates would inevitably punish him for? Still in question, though if Jett's exaggerated howl of pain was any indication, Kendall thought those were inevitable.

"Goddamn it, Kendall." Jett exclaimed loudly as Kendall dragged his head up from where it had landed in a slump of exhaustion only a few hours before on his marble pastry slab. If he was a betting man, he'd definitely bet that the fine grain of the marble was imprinted on his cheek.

He probably shouldn't have fallen asleep in the kitchen after filming the video, and he definitely shouldn't have piled those pans in such a precarious pile to dry after washing them. Inspiration had struck midway through the dinner service last night, and he'd been in too much of a rush to work out the intricacies of the recipe in his head to care much about the consequences of yet another late-night/early-morning filming marathon.

"At least I washed the pans out?" Kendall tried.

Through his tired squint, Kendall could just make out Jett's disgruntled expression. He was annoyed, not pissed off, which boded well for Kendall. He was also pretty sure that Jett had a few crumbs clinging to his chin, which meant that he'd already sampled some of last night's experiments.

Having eaten one over the sink just past 4 a.m., Kendall knew just how fantastic those tarts were. Jett's forgiveness was no longer an uncertainty, but an inevitability.

"Good, huh?" Kendall asked with a grin.

After culinary school, working in many good kitchens, before finally moving to the _great _kitchen at Terroir, and then ending up with three chefs as roommates, he knew all about the culinary ego. Sure, he had one, but constantly talking about how talented he was got exhausting. He normally preferred the food to do the talking for him-but in this case, distracting Jett from the fact that he'd used the kitchen until 4 a.m. _again_, was way more important.

"You film these, too?" Jett asked ruefully. He reached for another tart, not even trying to be subtle.

Kendall remembered when they'd first met, and Jett, all that ego barely restrained, had looked down his nose at pastry. He'd claimed to not even like sweets, but now he was chowing down on Kendall's tarts like there weren't about a hundred more packed away in neatly stacked Tupperware.

It was particularly sweet to convert someone who didn't appreciate his craft, just like he enjoyed bringing the skill of his craft to the masses. Even the masses who didn't necessarily appreciate it, but watched his videos anyway.

"Of course I did."

Jett might have been converted to liking Kendall's tarts, but Kendall knew he probably wasn't ever going to understand why he filmed himself making them, and posted them to social media. For Jett, it felt too much like a magician giving away his secrets for free.

Jett might want the cultured and erudite to enjoy his food, but he didn't want to teach them how to make it.

Jett shook his head. "You're wasting your time."

Kendall was tired. It couldn't be any later than 8 a.m.-because that was when Jett took his run every day-and that meant he'd gotten only a handful of hours of sleep on a marble slab that wasn't quite the same as his feather pillow. He had a fierce crick in his neck, and he had to be at work in two hours for prep.

Which was why he nicked the tart from Jett's fingers and popped the remains into his own mouth.

"But it's my time." Kendall said, and made a shooing motion. "Now go jog like a good boy."

Jett made a face, shrugged, and then turned away, shutting the door behind him _slightly _louder than normal. Kendall might be worried things would be weird between them, but they worked fourteen-hour days at one of the most exciting restaurants in the world, and after going through Chef's bullshit each shift, nothing ever seemed weird for long.

Kendall bent down and started gathering his pots. Yes, there was definitely a dent in his favorite copper sugar pan. Dammit. He'd just got the sink filled with soapy water so he could wash them again when his other roommate wandered in.

Carlos was rubbing sleep out of his eyes, but they lit up when they saw the Tupperware containers.

"You filmed last night?" He asked, popping the lid off. "Oh, these are pretty. Raspberry and strawberry?"

Carlos' nose was legendary. He could sometimes tell the separate ingredients in a dish just from the aroma, and always by taste. Sometimes Kendall enjoyed trying to stump him, but today, he just nodded, then turned back to his sink full of pots.

"Delicious." Carlos pronounced through a mouthful of pastry cream and flaky tart shell. "I never would have dreamt of doing just raspberry and strawberry. Mixed berry is so middle-class housewife. But you elevated it."

Since he had his back to his roommate, Carlos couldn't see Kendall roll his eyes. Every chef he knew believed they were as high class as the restaurant they worked with. He would be the first to tell anybody that Terroir was special, because it was.

Chef Massimo Bottura had built something one of a kind deep in the heart of Napa Valley, and then maintained it-which, Kendall knew, was most of the struggle. But most of the chefs he knew also came from decidedly low or middle-class origins. And they wanted to forget them as quickly as possible.

But Kendall had lots of good memories of his childhood, and the dreaded 'mixed berry' had shown up lots of times in Bundt cakes and muffins and as far as he was concerned, it was a classic. He'd just used a little of the technique he'd spent so many years perfecting to make it even better.

"Wish we could get marionberries here." Kendall said, because he wasn't going to tell Carlos, who was one of his best friends, that he was full of shit. He'd already antagonized Jett this morning, and he tried to only piss off one of his roommates per day.

"Chef could." Carlos said, making Kendall roll his eyes again.

Chef could get _anything_ because he was Massimo Bottura, and a god of American and Italian cuisine.

Pans washed, he started drying them one at a time, because he wasn't letting them air dry in a precarious pile again. His precious copper sugar pot might not survive another tumble.

"I meant get marionberries at the farmer's market." Kendall clarified, which Carlos must have known he meant.

Chef was only vaguely aware of Kendall's 'little internet experiment' as his boss had termed it, and as far as Kendall was concerned, it was going to stay that way. He wasn't going to go around name-dropping Massimo to get some marionberries.

"They're good as they are." Carlos said complacently, which as far as Kendall was concerned, was Carlos' biggest drawback as a chef. He rested on his laurels. He made the vision in his head, and if it matched, declared it done and perfect.

Kendall knew his own personal drawback was that no recipe was ever truly done. The tarts _would _be better with a single marionberry resting on the glossy surface of the pink pastry cream. They'd not only look better, but they'd also taste better, too.

Putting the last pan away, Kendall turned back Carlos.

"I'm going in at eleven. What about you?"

"Just got a text. Bunch of artichokes came in. Lots of prep today. So I'm going in early." Carlos flashed him a carefree smile that belied the fact that he'd be spending approximately the next sixteen hours at the restaurant, deep in the bowels of the kitchen. "But thanks for the tarts, they were a great start. Breakfast of champions."

"You're welcome." Kendall said, wiping his hand on a towel.

"Go get some sleep. You look like the walking dead. And not that hot one with the bow and arrows either."

Kendall didn't look in the mirror when he walked back to his room, but he considered it for a brief moment. He probably did look like hell, nothing like that admittedly hot guy from The Walking Dead. He _should _go take another catnap, but he wanted to get the tart video posted before his shift started.

He spent the next two hours editing his footage, and without even watching it all the way through, posted it to his page, Pastry by Kendall.

He took a lightning-quick shower, jumped on his bike, and was walking through the back door to the kitchens at Terroir right on time for his prep shift to start.

Part of the beauty of posting a video before a shift began was that there was no time to check hits or views or comments or anything at all. He was deep in prep, waist-high in white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids when Mateo, the head pastry chef, stopped in front of his station.

Mateo was sort of a dick, but pretty much all the chefs that reached his level were, so Kendall _mostly _didn't hold it against him.

"Did you put the rosemary in the cream while it seeped?" Mateo asked, like Kendall hadn't been making these all summer.

Terroir was considered one of the best restaurants in the world, and Mateo wasn't a terrible innovator-but sometimes his desserts were a little obvious. Kendall had also discovered the hard way that Mateo wasn't a huge fan of anyone having an idea other than him. If this wasn't Terroir and one of the best jobs anyone at his level could hope to have, Kendall would have left a long time ago, but here he still was, fielding Mateo's stupid questions and creating while chocolate lemon mousse pyramids.

And it should have been thyme, not rosemary, as far as he was concerned. But nobody had ever asked Kendall and that wasn't about to change.

"Yes, Chef." Kendall answered respectfully, but didn't glance up from his work.

"Good." Mateo said, and then lingered in front of his station, which made Kendall nervous. Mateo lingering didn't usually mean good things. It usually meant a great deal of unexpected work, and Kendall was already tired.

"Your new video." Mateo said, and Kendall couldn't help but tense. Mateo knew about the videos, but he'd never imagined Mateo might actually _watch_ one.

He'd had to tell Mateo, and Mateo's boss, Chef Bottura, what he was doing with Pastry by Kendall, because he figured it was better to beg permission now than for them to find out about it on their own and be fired later. Chef Bottura hadn't cared, because it wasn't about him, and Mateo had only insisted that the desserts he created be Kendall's ideas and Kendall's ideas alone.

That was perfectly fine by him, because the site had originally been created because he'd been creatively stifled at work, so he had zero intention of ever posting a white chocolate lemon mousse pyramid to Pastry by Kendall.

"Yes, Chef?" Kendall said, glancing up when Mateo didn't spit it out right away. His dark beady eyes seemed to grow even beadier. Or maybe Kendall had just been up three-quarters of the night baking. It was hard to say exactly.

"It was good." Mateo's voice was gruff, like he could barely bring himself to say anything positive. "An innovative concept."

So much of his job was biting his tongue, and Kendall kept right on biting it. "Thank you."

"I might mention to Chef Bottura that we could use it as a special next weekend."

Kendall had to tamp down his excitement so it wouldn't show. It wouldn't be a surprise to see Chef taking some poor chef apart for not cooking the scallops to perfection, but celebrating in the Terroir kitchen? Out of the question.

"That would be good." Kendall said, and because he was too tired not to, took a risk. "I didn't even realize you watched the videos, sir."

Mateo had turned to move on, but looked back at Kendall's statement.

"I don't." He said. "Chef Bottura recommended I watch it. Apparently he really enjoyed it. He said he was seeing it all over his Twitter feed."

Kendall couldn't hold back his smile at that. He might not enjoy the reign of Chef Mateo, but he very much respected Chef Bottura (even if he could be insane at times). And all over Chef's Twitter feed? He knew his videos were popular, but he'd never heard of them spreading that quickly before. He wished he could put his pastry bag down and look at his phone, but he still had a good hour left and these pyramids needed to chill before dinner service started.

He'd check his phone on his break.

When he finally finished the white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids, and they were nestled in the blast chiller, the crick in his neck was much worse than it had been that morning. Trying to stretch it out, he detoured into the tiny locker room next to the dishwashers. Grabbing his phone out of his locker, he was floored by how many notifications he had-and he'd anticipated having a ton.

Chef Bottura hearing about his video and seeing it on his timeline had been a pretty good hint that his video had gone viral. The avalanche of notifications he was trying to sort through proved it.

After fifteen minutes, Kendall felt overwhelmed and for the first time ever, he was relieved his break was over. It felt like he'd barely touched the growing mountain of comments and shares and likes.

He couldn't put his finger on why the sudden flash of white-hot popularity bothered him, but as he was dusting the mousse pyramids with edible gold, it hit him.

Pastry by Kendall had never been about becoming popular. It had been an expression of his creative side that had been stifled at Terroir-a necessary outlet that he paid attention to sporadically. He didn't post videos weekly, or even regularly, but he must have hit a nerve because each video he posted seemed to exponentially increase his social media reach.

It was, Kendall decided, a serendipitous symptom of something he enjoyed doing. He'd still record the videos if nobody but his little sister watched them.

"Knight." A voice called across the kitchen. Kendall glanced up and tensed. It was Jett, his dirty blond hair covered by a bandana festooned with chili peppers, and he had his phone in his hand.

"What do you want?" He asked shortly, and far more quietly than Jett. It was just like Jett to believe that even in another chef's kitchen-even in _Chef Bottura's _kitchen-he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

Sometimes Jett pushed his buttons, and all Kendall wanted to do was push them back. But Kendall always remembered he was a roommate and a friend, and even worse a co-worker, before he punched Jett in the face.

"You didn't tell me you were famous." He said, coming to stand over by the tray of pyramids. Kendalls set his brush on the lid of the gold dust with a steady hand.

"I'm not famous." Kendall said, even though the notifications blowing up his phone might argue otherwise.

"I don't know," Jett said skeptically, "when my aunt in New Jersey texts me to say she thinks our kitchen is a pit, I sorta feel like you are."

Kendall stared at his friend. "You don't have an aunt in New Jersey."

"But I _could_." Jett said blithely.

"You're an asshole." Kendall said, scowling as he picked his brush back up. "Now go away, I have to finish these. Don't you have about a thousand artichokes to break down?"

"Roughly two thousand." Jett announced cheerfully.

Kendall shook his head in disbelief. Not at the artichokes-that didn't surprise him at all because Chef Borruta was a famous perfectionist and a closet sadist-but at how happy Jett seemed to be about them.

"Did you get laid?" Kendall demanded quietly. "Is that what this obnoxious cheerfulness is about?"

Jett just laughed. "You look tired. You should get some sleep, Knight." He sauntered away without ever answering Kendall's question.

"You shouldn't let him get to you." Logan said.

Logan was Kendall's third roommate-Napa was insanely expensive and the only way Kendall could afford a halfway decent kitchen with halfway decent light was to split the rent four ways.

"Easy for you to say." Kendall retorted.

"I had a tart. Actually two." Logan confessed. "They were awesome."

Kendall had a soft spot for Logan. He kind of reminded him of his little sister, Katie. Except Logan was male, but like Katie, he was tough as nails because he was at the bottom of the food chain in Terroir's kitchen. Kendall had no idea how Logan even survived the diabolical tasks Chef Bottura put on his plate. Kendall usually thought women were usually way tougher than men, but what Logan put up with put even Katie to shame regularly. And Katie was a freshman in college.

"Thank you." Kendall acknowledged.

Logan was way more respectful than Jett, and had kept his distance so Kendall could pick his brush up and get back to his careful, artful dusting of the pyramids. Chef Mateo might not make crazily innovative desserts, but he was a stickler for presentation. Every single one of his desserts was a work of art.

"Jett's just jealous, you know. He has a secret, desperate yearning to be famous."

"It's not so secret." Kendall muttered. "In fact, it's hard to miss."

Logan burst out laughing. "True."

"You're too nice to him."

"I'm too nice to everyone." Logan said, which was also true. "I'll leave you alone to your geometric wonders."

When Kendall finally finished the dinner service, he had gold dust under his fingernails and a shit ton of sleepy grit in his eyes. He tossed his bike into the back of Logan's hatchback, and barely remembered his head hitting the pillow.

XxX

His phone blared shrilly, interrupting Kendall's deep dreamless sleep.

His hand shot out of the covers and grabbed what he thought might have been the shape of his phone. Not bothering to look at the screen, he blindly pressed the answer button.

"What?" He barked. It better not be Jett, waking him up to go for a jog. Or Logan, trying to be cute and failing.

"You're famous!" His little sister sang into the speaker, sounded even brighter than she usually did.

Kendall groaned and fell back to his pillow. "What time is it?"

"I waiting until nine, at least." Katie said. "I've got a class in five, I just wanted to tell you that you're famous, in case you missed it somehow."

"You'd be surprised." Kendall told her wryly, because he'd pulled an extra-long shift and then fallen asleep. He hadn't exactly had time in the last twenty-four hours to wrap his head around his sudden, inexplicable fame.

"What class?" He asked before she could tell him the breadth of what he'd neglected by choosing sleep. He didn't get a lot of time to talk to Katie since she'd started at Cal in the fall, and he'd missed their chats.

"Philosophy 101." Katie said, and he could hear her eye roll.

"Not enjoying it?" He asked. He'd chosen to go to culinary school instead of college, and it had absolutely been the right choice for him, but he was thrilled at the brave step Katie was taking.

She was one of his favorite people-smart and funny and bright as the sun-and she was the first of his family to actually go to college. He couldn't think of anyone better suited to fight for what she deserved.

"Oh, it's plenty dumb at points." Katie said. "Like whether we're actually not here, but figments of someone's imagination. Of _course _we're actually here. It's just…"

Kendall heard her pause, and he was still wiping the sleepy cobwebs from his brain so it took him a long second to catch up to why she was hesitating.

"What is it?" He finally asked. "What happened?" He was still, and would always be, a big brother.

"There's this guy." She said, frustration evident in her voice. "He argues with _everything _I say. I'm not sure he even agrees with what he's saying, but it doesn't seem to matter."

"He sounds like an ass." What he sounded like was a guy with a crush on Kendall's baby sister, and no idea how to go about getting her attention like an adult. Kendall wanted to punch him in the face.

"He definitely is." Katie said, and though she didn't say it, Kendall could hear the hesitation in her tone.

She didn't think he was an ass at all. And just like that, Kendall realized that she probably wouldn't be his baby sister for much longer. At least not in her mind. She was eighteen and in college and discovering the world.

"I've got to go." Katie continued. "But don't think I didn't notice that you changed the subject. We still need to talk about _you_, big bro."

"Someday."

"Sooner rather than later." Katie insisted.

After she hung up, Kendall hesitated before unlocking his phone again. Did he even want to look? When he finally did, he grimaced. If the avalanche of notifications yesterday had been daunting, the pile this morning was insurmountable.

He wasn't sure if it was a good or a bad thing that Mateo had told him he wouldn't need to be in until four today.

He debated whether he wanted coffee or not-not a real debate, more like whether Kendall wanted to pull on pants and stumble into the kitchen-and he'd just about made up his mind that coffee was required if he was going to slog through his phone when there was a knock on the door.

Kendall pushed his hair back from his forehead and grabbed a pair of loose sweats on the floor by the bed. Pulling them on, he opened the door to Logan's way too bright smile.

It was hard to scowl at all that cheerfulness, but Kendall was a pro and managed it just fine.

"I brought you coffee." Logan said, extending a cup filled to the brim. "Two sugars, dark as sludge."

Kendall eyed his roommate suspiciously. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I'm always nice."

Okay, that was true. Logan was definitely the nicest of his roommates, Carlos a close second, and Jett could be an asshole on a good day. But Logan had a sort of apprehensive puppy dog thing going on this morning, and Kendall was naturally suspicious, but he wasn't usually wrong.

"Have you looked at your phone?" Logan asked, sounding way too much like Katie for Kendall's peace of mind.

"Sort of."

Logan shot him a frank look. "Take a closer look," was all he said. "Last I saw, Martha Steward retweeted it, and Snoop Dogg picked it up, too."

Kendall's jaw dropped open. "Snoop Dogg retweeted my video?"

"I mean, have you even watched that cooking show he hosts Martha?" Logan rambled as Kendall clumsily unlocked his phone after three tries and sat down on the bed, coffee abandoned to the bedside table as he scrolled through some of his notifications.

"I don't get it." Kendall finally said, looking up and realizing that Logan was still expectantly standing in the doorway. "Most viral stuff has a good hook. This was a video of me...baking tarts."

"But you've never shown yourself as much as you did in this one." Logan pointed out. "And, honestly, you looked pretty cute and intense, hair falling in your face, and I think at one point you might've had some raspberry purée smeared across your cheek."

Kendall stared at his friend.

"You _did _watch it before you posted it, didn't you?" Logan asked awkwardly.

"Technically yes." Kendall thought back to the morning two days ago when he'd gotten approximately three hours of sleep on a marble slab and decided he might not have been entirely coherent enough to do the editing justice. "But I was a little tired at the time. I probably thought the raspberry purée gave me a sort of rakish charm."

"It totally did." Logan said loyally.

Logan was much nicer than Jett, and since Jett had yet to give him shit over the purée, that must mean he hadn't seen it yet. Kendall hoped that state continued for a long time, though considering the way the video was spreading, he probably wouldn't get that lucky.

"So I looked...funny?" Kendall asked, unable to keep the desperation out of his tone.

"No, no. You just look really intense and cute and driven. It's a good video, and people like it for the right reasons, I promise. Plus, the tarts look delicious-and they tasted even better, by the way."

"Okay." Kendall took a deep breath. "Is it totally weird if I didn't want this to happen?"

Logan's gaze grew sympathetic. "Uh, no. It's a lot of scrutiny. I'm not sure Chef Borruta will like it, if I'm being totally honest."

That was something Kendall hadn't even considered.

Chef Bottura was notoriously driven by his gigantic ego. Where Terroir was concerned, he didn't like anybody else stealing the spotlight. Especially a lowly pastry assistant.

"He seemed okay with it two days ago."

"Kendall," Logan said, "_Snoop Dogg _retweeted it. He's probably not okay with it now."

Kendall had difficulty wrapping his head around Chef Bottura even knowing who Snoop Dogg was, never mind caring what he thought of the video, but Logan was almost always right when it came to Chef Bottura.

Chef had handpicked Logan from his culinary school's graduating class and had taken him on as a special assistant. From what Kendall could figure out, that mostly meant that Logan got to bear the brunt of their overbearing boss. But no matter how many times Chef yelled at Logan, or generally embarrassed him in front of the rest of the staff, Logan still worshipped him.

Personally, Kendall thought there might be a little more than hero worship going on there, but he wasn't going to open that bag of worms anytime soon. If Logan was smart, he'd get over it and move on. If Logan wasn't smart, he'd eventually get chewed up and spit out by their illustrious leader.

"Well, I'll find out tonight." Kendall said. "I don't have to go in until four though." He already knew what he'd be doing the rest of the day, and even though he knew he should be celebrating his success, all he felt was a mild dread.

He hadn't set out to become popular or famous, and he wasn't sure how this video would ultimately impact his fairly simple life. A life he liked _because _it was simple.

"Drink your coffee." Logan ordered. "I'll see you tonight."

* * *

**Done! So this was more of a prologue, but we'll get more into the plot next chapter.**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed! The next chapter will more than likely be up sometime next week, so there won't be too long of a wait for that. I'm so excited for this new ride and to share more with you all! :)**

**Until next time!**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again everyone! I'm back with the second chapter of Explosive!**

**Before we get to that, I would like to thank everyone that read the first chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to RainbowDiamonds, winterschild11, Guest, Side1ways, annabellex2, and XxxAnimaniacxxX for reviewing!**

**This chapter is a little long, but I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

Kendall slunk into the staff entrance at Terroir at fifteen minutes to four.

He'd drunk three cups of Logan's excellent coffee, almost fully cleared out his notifications, and had even had a little time to start wrapping his head around what had just happened to him.

With a decent night's sleep and some high-quality caffeine in him, Kendall found he could actually enjoy the really positive comments to the video. Especially flattering, though bordering on creepy in some moments, were the many people who seemed to want to pick him up. Men and women both, and Kendall realized that he'd never outright stated on his Pastry by Kendall page that he was gay.

Oh well, it wasn't like he was taking anybody up on any of the offers-even the ones that seemed particularly attractive. And there had been more than a few of those.

His only real concern remained Chef Bottura's developing reaction to the video's unexpected success.

Logan hadn't texted him any red alerts during the afternoon, so Kendall could only pray that Chef Bottura was still okay with it. He was even harboring a secret hope that the popularity of the video had only made Chef more determined to feature the tart as a special dessert.

"Knight!" Mateo barked out as he caught sight of him slinking into the break room to put his bag in his locker.

"Yes, Chef?" Kendall asked.

"There's someone here to see you." He said.

"Chef Bottura?" Kendall began to sweat a little.

Mateo shook his head. "No, someone else. They're on the terrace, waiting for you."

Kendall was definitely sweating now. Was he going to be fired? He'd done good work here-nothing innovative, because Mateo wasn't that kind of chef-but he'd created solid and consistent product. He'd never even explicitly stated in his videos that he worked at Terroir, though a few commenters had voiced their suspicions that he did when he'd mentioned working at a famous restaurant. He'd never confirmed anything, but even though there were a lot of top-notch restaurants in Napa, there was only one with Michelin stars, and that was Terroir.

He walked through the empty restaurant, the tables already sparkling with glassware and silver, out the side door and onto the terrace.

Terroir overlooked some of the vineyards Napa was famous for, and the terrace was one of the most prized dining areas in California-probably in the whole United States. Trellised ivy and grapevines wound around the brick stonework of the building, and even though the terrace was technically outside, every inch was swept and pristine. Kendall thought Chef Bottura probably even frightened the bugs away.

There was a man on the end of the terrace, sampling a cheese platter, with a glass of sparkling wine at his elbow. He had dark hair and a broad set of muscular shoulders that his white t-shirt only seemed to emphasize. He looked up with dark, intense eyes as Kendall approached.

"You're Dak Zevon." Kendall said before the man could introduce himself. He couldn't believe he hadn't recognized him the second he'd spotted him.

Jett worshiped the guy something fierce, both for his incredible culinary expertise and also because he was seriously hot. Kendall had teased Jett more times than he could count about hanging a poster of Dak above his bed, and now he was here, in the flesh.

Jett was going to eat his heart out when he discovered who'd come to see Kendall. He'd never mock Pastry by Kendall ever again, not if the site drew Dak Zevon up to Napa.

"And you're Kendall." Dak stood and offered a firm handshake. "Please, have a seat." He said before gesturing to the glass. "Would you like some wine?"

Kendall shook his head. "Sorry, but no, I'm on shift tonight."

"Right, of course." Dak said. "Well, I'm sure you're probably wondering why I asked to meet with you."

Kendall was desperately curious. He knew Dak had closed his famous Chicago restaurant, Hansens, and had disappeared for a year or so, reappearing on the West Coast, but he couldn't remember what it was that Dak was doing now. Jett had certainly told him, probably more than once, but Kendall blocked out most of the shit Jett said.

"I didn't realize you'd opened another restaurant." Kendall said as Dak selected a chunk of brie and popped it in his mouth.

"I haven't." Dak responded. "I'm the culinary producer at Five Points."

Five Points was a pop culture and sports website that had been recently branching into short culinary video series.

Kendall now remembered all those rants Jett had subjected him to about Dak wasting all his talent by selling out.

"I've been following Pastry by Kendall for a while now." Dak continued, picking through the thinly sliced meats on the tray. "I had always planned to offer you a show on our site, but after the last forty-eight hours, I decided I'd better get up here and do it before someone else beat me to the punch."

"A show on Five Points?" Kendall asked skeptically. "You teach people how to bake bread out of melted ice cream. How to make edible cookie dough out of garbanzo beans. Pastry by Kendall is a serious pastry blog."

Dak shot Kendall a very frank look.

"I'm a serious chef, Mr. Knight. I want to make a serious pastry show. Believe it or not, I have higher ambitions than teaching the masses how to make a dessert with three ingredients or less. I want to teach them what good pastry is about. And I think you're exactly the person to do that."

Hansens had been legendary in the food scene. It was hard to picture a Dak Zevon who didn't take the culinary arts very seriously. But there was still a whisper in the back of his head that _he'd _be selling out if he quit to film a show for Five Points. He wouldn't be able to come back to Terroir. His job wouldn't be waiting for him. Chef Bottura might let him go, but he'd never forgive Kendall for moving on, no matter how unfair that might be.

"How much input would I have into the show?" Kendall asked, because that, more than anything else, felt very important. He wasn't going to dumb down his ideas for anybody. He wasn't going to be subject to someone else's vision, not if he was going to take the drastic step of walking away from employment at one of the very best restaurants in the world.

"There would be a producer. Me, maybe, or someone else. Maybe my assistant. I've been looking to promote him, and your show would be a great fit. But the process at Five Points is collaborative." He paused. "I said it before, but I'll say it again. I don't have any intention of dumbing down your skill. I want something accessible, but elevated. I want you to teach people about pastry."

When he'd begun Pastry by Kendall, he'd wanted to share his creativity with people who weren't just his roommates or his family. He'd wanted a way to express his vision without being shut down.

"How long do I have to think about it?" Kendall asked.

"As long as you need." Dak said. "But I guarantee there will be others after me. That video was _very _good, Mr. Knight. I'll email you over a sample contract with compensation attached. But everything is negotiable."

"Thanks, I'll be in touch." Kendall said, getting to his feet, his fingers already itching to check his email and see how much Dak was offering him to leave Terroir and everything familiar. "I've got to get back to my prep."

If he detoured through the locker room and grabbed his phone to check his email, who could blame him? He scrolled through Dak's email, and his jaw dropped open at the offering bid for fifteen episodes. That was two years salary at Terroir, plus there were stipulations about housing and moving costs _and _additional bonuses if certain benchmarks were met.

Kendall hadn't gotten into the culinary business to make money-most chefs weren't rich, or even close to rich, but he couldn't deny the money held an attractive appeal.

Later, as he was making yet another tray of white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids, sure he would be dreaming about gold dust, Kendall thought that the money paled in comparison to the opportunity to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. True creative vision. And extra bonus: no more white chocolate mousse pyramids and no more gold dust.

XxX

Kendall biked home because it was a gorgeous night-clear and with just the right amount of briskness in the air. He couldn't deny he was avoiding his friends because they'd try to talk him out of leaving. Especially Jett, because he was the most vocal of the three-though Kendall knew he'd get arguments from all of them. They knew just how special finding a place at Terroir was, and then how much work and determination and thick skin went into staying there.

It wouldn't be something they'd want him to give up lightly, but Kendall realized as he pulled into the driveway that he'd been ready to move on for a while now. Why else feel compelled to start Pastry by Kendall at all? He shouldn't need to come home from a long, exhausting shift and bake. As far as Kendall was concerned, he should feel creatively fulfilled at the position he'd worked his ass off for.

And if that wasn't the case anymore, then he _should _move on. It was the right thing to do, Kendall knew as he walked into the house, but it didn't make telling his friends any easier.

It was after midnight, and they'd all worked at least ten hours today, but when he walked into the living room, Jett and Carlos were on the couch, and Logan was sprawled next to them on the floor. The TV was tuned to a hockey game on ESPN, which meant Carlos had picked the channel, but when Kendall walked in, he muted it.

Three sets of eyes swiveled in his direction.

"So Dak Zevon came to see you today?" Jett's statement was phrased like a question, but it wasn't like Kendall could deny it. He slumped into an old chair and let his bag fall to the floor.

"Yeah, he came to see me."

Jett scooted to the edge of the couch. "And you didn't come get me?"

"It wasn't that kind of visit." Kendall hesitated and then continued before Jett could reload again. "Listen, I know you're all going to try to talk me out of it, and that's fine, but I've made up my mind. I'm giving my two weeks notice tomorrow."

Jett and Carlos didn't look all that surprised, but Logan turned to him, accusation and dismay all over his face.

"You're really going to quit? I heard people talking, saying you might, and that's why Dak came by, but I didn't believe them. I couldn't believe them. Kendall, you've more than earned your place at Terroir."

"I've earned it, yeah, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it."

Sacrilege to admit he didn't love every chef's dream job, but it felt good to finally say it out loud.

"You really mean that." Carlos said softly. "It's not the money? I'm sure Dak threw a bunch of money at you."

He had, and maybe Kendall should have used that reason, instead of the truth. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how all of them had been restricted by Chef Bottura's iron-clad rule. Every single one of them had their own point of view as a chef, and none of them were expressing it.

And Kendall couldn't help but think that was just sad.

"Someday, you're going to understand, I promise." He said.

Logan made a scoffing noise and Carlos rolled his eyes.

Jett didn't say a word. Kendall supposed he should be relieved that Jett was so unusually quiet, but Jett was also one of his best friends. And for someone who loved to argue and express all of his opinions all the time, the silence was sort of galling. Like Jett had already given up on him.

"I'm sorry I'm going to leave you without a fourth roommate." Kendall added, though he knew with the addition of Logan almost a year ago, it wouldn't be as tough of a financial hardship.

"We'll manage." Carlos said softly, with both him and Logan giving him a small smile.

Jett scowled, and Kendall just couldn't help himself.

"Aren't you even going to _try _to change my mind?" He asked, but Jett just shrugged.

"You've already made up your mind. It would be a waste of breath."

Kendall got to his feet. "I'll see you guys tomorrow. I'm wiped."

And he realized as he headed towards his room, that he'd only have two more weeks of waking up and heading into the restaurant with his friends.

On the flip side, he only had two more weeks of Chef Mateo's insultingly obvious questions and only two more weeks of white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids.

* * *

James Diamond was used to people not understanding his choices.

When his boss had asked if he wanted to come with him to a world-famous restaurant, renowned throughout the globe for its food and its ambiance, to meet with the man whose show he would very likely be producing, it had been easy to turn Dak down.

It wasn't James' pitch that was going to win Kendall Knight over to the idea of leaving Terrior and everything he knew behind. It was Dak Zevon, culinary star a little dented and tarnished but still present and still glowing.

"But you'll be working with him. Closely. Don't you want to meet him?" Dak had protested. A token protest.

Dak was great in the kitchen, and also great at inspiring underlings to follow in his culinary footsteps, but he was not good at business. James was and they both knew it, so it usually wasn't very tough to convince Dak that James was right.

"I've already met him." James had said, pointing to his laptop screen, where he'd compiling a dossier on Kendall Knight. A dossier he'd started long before the latest Pastry by Kendall video had gone viral.

So Dak had gone to Terroir alone, and come back to a signed contract, and an assistant who was now officially a producer.

James' decisions might be considered strange, but nobody could argue with the results.

Dak recognized this and also James' value, which was why James had already decided not to usurp his job eventually. James needed Dak to be the esteemed figurehead, and while everyone was oohing and aahing over Dak and all his culinary credibility, James would be behind the scenes, getting shit done.

The promotion was nice though, and James had every intention of paying back his boss and mentor's faith in him in spades.

James straightened his shirt and glanced over at his boss, who was scribbling on a piece of paper as he leaned over the receptionist's desk. Either a new idea for Dream Team, the one show Dak still produced, or a new recipe he'd just thought of. James turned his attention to the elevator and its closed doors.

He'd planned very carefully for this day. Not just after he'd been hired for the Five Points internship. Not just after he'd gotten into college. Not just after he'd won valedictorian at high school graduation. He'd know much earlier than that, that one day he'd be someone people looked to, that people followed, at a place where he would be taken seriously.

All those other days had been stepping stones to _this _day.

The elevator doors dinged open, depositing Kendall Knight on the carpet in front of him.

James had been studying Kendall for months. He didn't vet dates with as much scrutiny as he had Kendall-which probably explained his extensive date-less drought-and he'd expected very little surprise facing him for the first time.

But Kendall _did_ surprise him. Shocked him, in fact. He walked up, his green eyes lazy but direct, blond hair a tousled mass on his head, and James felt a thrill in a place he'd never felt a thrill before.

He'd known Kendall was handsome and very possibly charismatic. That was one of the reasons he'd been an easy selection as a candidate. He had a way of making you like him that was subtle and easy-you just slid right in.

James didn't just slide, he catapulted.

"Kendall Knight." The man in front of him said, extending a hand.

James was dimly aware of Dak straightening next to him, and shoving a paper in his pocket.

James reached out and shook Kendall's hand, and even though his brain felt sluggish and distracted by the way Kendall's lips tilted up in a half-smirk, he managed to introduce himself. "James Diamond."

Kendall turned to Dak, and they shook hands.

"How badly did Bottura take it?" Dak asked. "I didn't hear from him so he must not have been too pissed off."

The green eyes turned thoughtful, and James swore he saw a little worry there, but before he could look closer, it was gone. He told himself he was watching so carefully not because Kendall was so carelessly handsome, but because he needed to figure out how Kendall Knight ticked so that he knew how to approach the situation.

"Actually," Kendall said, "he wasn't all that pissed."

"Well, we're really happy you're at Five Points." Dak said warmly. He could be socially awkward; in fact, James was almost certain he had social anxiety, but he had gotten better at hiding it. James also recognized when Dak was passing the torch to him, and he stepped in smoothly, like they'd discussed it ahead of time even though they hadn't.

"I've been watching Pastry by Kendall almost since the very beginning." James said. "What Dak told you is true. You've been on our radar for a long time."

"I'm honestly excited to be here. I'm looking forward to something different if I'm being honest." Kendall said in response.

Dak chuckled. "Well, you and James will get along like a house on fire then. He's sort of unapologetically blunt."

It was true, but Dak didn't need to go around sharing all of James' secrets during the first five minutes.

"Don't you have that meeting?" He asked his boss pointedly. He didn't have a meeting, but James knew how happy Dak would be to escape. This was the part of his job that he didn't love.

"Right, well, I just wanted to stop by and say welcome, and we're so happy you're here." Dak said. "James will take good care of you. He'll give you a tour and show you your office and the kitchen. And then you two can get started."

James was watching closely, or he might not have noticed Kendall's eyes grow cloudier.

"Thanks again." Kendall said, voice normal. Except that James didn't think he'd imagined any of the undercurrents running through his new partner.

Kendall might have a laid-back, casual attitude, but James had a feeling that there was a lot more to him than met the eye.

"Let's start with a tour." James said, trying to tone down his tendency to take control over everything. "I'm sure you're dying to see the kitchen."

"Sounds good to me." Kendall said casually.

They went on a quick tour of the office, with James pointing out the bathrooms, conference rooms, James' cubicle, and Kendall's, which was right next door. Kendall looked around the tiny box, setting his messenger bag on the small desk, and James wished he could read minds as his new partner took in his surroundings.

He was exceptionally difficult to read, and James didn't like that at all. He wanted to know where he stood. The unknown was a scary place, full of pitfalls and potential failure lingering at the end like a bad smell.

"We film at a local studio." James said as they entered the kitchens. "We don't have the room or the resources here, but eventually we're going to move to a bigger space and we'll build our own soundstage. So we do all our prep here, practicing and perfecting the rundown of the show, and then we film the final product at the other studio."

The other man glanced around the kitchen, his eyes not missing a thing, from the commercial appliances to the long stainless steel counters.

"I filmed with way less than this at my house." Kendall pointed out. "Maybe we could figure out how to do small stuff here."

James didn't want to tell him that it had _looked _like Kendall filmed in an unprofessional environment and that part of the bonus of signing with Five Points was his production value undergoing a significant upgrade.

"We'll see," was all James said. He wasn't willing to promise anything more. They had certain standards at Five Points, and James not only intended to honor them, but to exceed them. And there was no way they could do that with some sort of cobbled together video they did in the test kitchens.

"Dak runs the kitchens, then?" Kendall asked, and James wasn't sure he liked the hopeful note in Kendall's voice, because he needed Kendall to like him-for purely professional reasons, of course. But even as he insisted on this to himself, James knew he was lying.

James could admit that complicated an already potentially complex business partnership, but James was also willing to be flexible if it meant great results. Dream Team, the first show Five Points had done, had paired together two people already in a relationship, and even though the culinary side was well-developed, the reason it had such high viewership was how charming Alex Patton and Liam Maxwell were together. Dream Team had changed James' perspective about what could and what could not work in a TV environment.

"Dak is the executive producer and the director of the test kitchens, yes." James said. "But the day-to-day manager of the kitchens is Stephanie. If you need anything specific, you ask her."

Kendall glanced over, and James' skin burned as his gaze skimmed over him. "And you?"

"Me?" James clarified, proud that his voice hadn't come out squeaking like he'd regressed about a dozen years. He'd won his confidence with a shit ton of hard work, and he didn't like how this man dismantled it so easily. It was infuriating.

"Your position here." Kendall clarified.

James was not thrilled. Dak was supposed to have covered all this stuff in the contract and Kendall was already supposed to know they were going to be working together closely. James wasn't supposed to have to break it to him.

"I'm the producer of your show. We're going to be working together. A lot."

_One_ discernible emotion out of the man in the last fifteen minutes, and it had to be dismay at being paired with James.

"Dak didn't tell me that you had any culinary experience. I assumed he'd be my producer since he has the background." Kendall said, and James realized that this was the laid-back Kendall's way of issuing a protest at who he'd been stuck with.

James liked this even less. His ego was bruising even more than he wanted to admit. He hadn't ever anticipated that _Kendall Knight_, the super cute guy who he'd been admiring for months, would be such a jerk.

"I have a degree in business, with an emphasis on marketing." James said, trying to tamp down the testy edge to his voice. "I've also been Dak's assistant for almost two years. I know how to produce a successful program."

Kendall shot him an almost pitying look. As if the degree James had worked his ass off for meant nothing.

"But do you know anything about pastry?"

"You do." James said, and the confidence he felt was genuine. The way Kendall had always been able to pare down difficult concepts and explain them was brilliant. He'd be great at showing a brand-new audience how to bake in a way they hadn't experienced before. And James' job was to provide that audience.

On paper, they were a great team, something that Dak had unhesitatingly stated more than once. But now that he and Kendall were standing in front of each other, James wondered if he and Dak had made a miscalculation.

They hadn't taken into consideration that Kendall Knight was quite possibly a culinary snob who didn't like to bother with anyone lacking his training.

"Right." Kendall said, and he did _not _look convinced.

James decided this wasn't the right moment to argue the point and definitely not the right place-right in the middle of a kitchen that he'd never used, so he changed the subject.

"Let's swing by IT and get your laptop."

Kendall followed and didn't argue so James took that as success, then dropped him at his cubicle, with a promise to get him for their first brainstorming session in a few hours. Dak had already promised to take Kendall by the cafeteria for lunch. Maybe after spending time with a chef of Dak's culinary pedigree, and realizing how committed Five Points was to authenticity, Kendall would soften his stance.

XxX

After a quick lunch at his desk, James went to the bathroom to wash his hands and gave himself a pep talk in the mirror.

Opportunities like this didn't come around very often and he wasn't going to blow the first big one he'd ever been handed. Once they started working on Kendall's show, he would see that James was just as committed as he was to making it a success.

When he returned to his cubicle to grab his laptop and to fetch Kendall next door, for a split second, James considered leaving behind all the prep work he'd been doing on his vision of Pastry by Kendall.

But all of it was important market research and branding. Stuff that Kendall _needed_, whether he admitted it or not. Stuff he needed to develop if he wanted to expand beyond retweets by Snoop Dogg.

It had been very clear to James from the beginning of Pastry by Kendall that Kendall had no real marketing plan, and that's all this was, James justified to himself. He took the folder and hated that Kendall had made him question himself.

"What did you think of the cafeteria?" James asked as they set up in one of the smaller meeting rooms.

Kendall wrinkled his nose. "It was okay, I guess."

Dak had been appalled when he'd first started at Five Point at the quality of the building's cafeteria and had worked hard to improve the quality of the food they served. They still didn't do everything well, but they'd made huge strides. It was definitely better than anything that James could cook himself. Which, he realized, was the root of Kendall's problem.

It wasn't too hard to imagine him feeling regret at taking this step, but James still believed they could make this work. There was a reason they'd been spending months looking over the market and the talent available and had ultimately decided on Kendall.

"Maybe you can give Dak some suggestions on how to improve." James said. "He doesn't technically run the food service, but he has a lot of influence and works with them frequently."

"We already discussed it." Kendall said, making it very clear that he was done discussing food-related topics with someone who apparently couldn't understand them. Which was going to make the next two hours rather difficult.

James decided there was no point in further procrastinating.

"I thought it might be helpful to start with a rundown of the videos you've produced so far, and talk about where we might make improvements, and what facets we would want to keep for your show here."

But instead of _agreeing_, Kendall shoved his fingers through his hair and pinned James with an adversarial look that James knew he should have found entirely obnoxious, but instead of being simply being annoying, it was intense and left James feeling unsettled. Exposed. Warmer than he liked.

"So you bring me in here," Kendall said, "and claim you want me so badly to sign with you, so badly you send a famous chef to meet with me, then when I agree to film videos for you, you stick me with some marketing guru who doesn't know anything about pastry who wants to change everything." He leaned back and folded his arms. "Why?"

"I didn't send anyone." James argued. "Dak wanted to go, and he's the boss." Technically true, but also partly a lie.

"I think you'd understand, being some marketing expert, what false advertising is. You lured me here with Dak because you knew I'd never agree to work with you."

"You're working with me because your show needs to improve its marketing angle and develop some polish." James said through gritted teeth. "And I bet you that's what Dak told you when you complained to him at lunch."

Kendall gave a short bark of laughter. "Sort of, yeah." For the first time, James felt the spark of Kendall's natural charm. He wanted to pettily reject it, but also bask in the novelty of experiencing it for the first time in person.

"You want things to be perfect, even if they're unstudied in their perfection." James said, pulling out every persuasive technique he'd learned in a lifetime of bad living situations. "I can help you with that."

Kendall looked intrigued, but not completely convinced, but James decided that maybe it would be better to show, not tell.

"For example," He said, pulling out his notes from the folder he'd brought in, "you experimented with a lot of different camera angles and placements while you were filming. Every episode is slightly different. I can help figure out the best one and then standardize it. Do you want to be featured on camera? Not on camera? Just a pair of hands?"

"Someone told me my last video was so successful because I was on it more." Kendall said, but he sounded skeptical.

James didn't want to say that _yes_, everyone ate up that footage because there was nothing hotter than a good-looking person absorbed in what they were creating. Even to the point of missing a smear of pink pastry cream across one chiseled cheekbone.

"There were definitely factors that helped that video spread virally." James said. "I can help you recreate them."

Kendall nodded. It wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but it was something, and even James couldn't work with nothing.

"I didn't think I'd care if people watched my videos or not," Kendall admitted, and James barely restrained himself from doing a little cheer at the man _finally _revealing something about what he was looking for from this partnership, "but I liked it. I started making them for me, and I never thought about my audience. But then a million people watched the last one, and that was pretty cool."

"Try five point six million." James said.

"Jesus, I had no idea it was that high."

James realized that Kendall wasn't being humble; he really had no idea what his stats were like. And that did shed some light on how the man ticked. He lived for his work and his kitchen.

"So you didn't get into this for the fame, obviously." James said. "Why did you start?"

James couldn't believe it, but Kendall flushed. It was almost very nearly a blush. James felt his own skin flame hotter in response.

"I was bored at work if you could believe it. And my sister missed seeing me bake. So I posted it for her, really." Kendall went a tiny bit darker red and James had a sudden visceral image of their bare skin pressed together, damp and warm. "It sounds silly, doesn't it? I made the first video just for my sister, and five-point six million people saw the last one."

"It's actually pretty incredible." James paused. "And it's just the beginning. The sky's the limit."

Kendall leaned back in his chair and actually laughed. "You really mean that."

James rolled his eyes. "Like Dak said, I'm annoyingly honest." What James didn't say was that he believed in Kendall almost as much as he'd always believed in himself. The belief was admittedly a little tarnished currently, but James knew it wouldn't take much encouragement from Kendall to bring it-or his ill-advised crush-back to their former states.

Considering how far they'd gotten in the last five minutes by just _talking_, James decided they could do an analysis of the old videos later. He didn't want to do anything to remind Kendall that he was the interloper trying to take over the show he'd started as a way of keeping in touch with his sister.

That was sort of cute, actually. It made James wish he knew how to bake. Or that he'd had a sister or brother.

Still, it was better to stick to non-confrontational topics. So James opened up his internet browser and another food site that did videos. He turned the screen so Kendall could see it.

"I didn't know they let you watch those." Kendall said wryly. "Aren't they the enemy?"

"It's research." James said. "We're going to go through these videos and you tell me everything you like and everything you don't."

James figured that criticizing other people would probably keep Kendall from going rogue until James could figure out a new way to get Kendall to work with him and plan the first season of Pastry by Kendall.

XxX

James came home to his apartment-and tried not to think of Kendall doing the same, only a door away. The first thing he did was pour himself a very large glass of wine.

It was a Tuesday, but he had fucking earned this wine. Kendall had spent almost three hours complaining about everything in the other videos. He had lots to say, though most of his criticism was culinary based. Even though the plan was to keep Kendall focused on people other than James, every time Kendall had pointed out something that was wrong, he'd pointedly glanced over at James. Basically, he was never going to let James forget that his degree was in business and not croissants.

Usually, James did some form of work in the evenings, but tonight he didn't even want to open his laptop. Kendall had managed to make James hate his job, albeit temporarily. He was a horrid pain in the ass, and James tried to dig up some motivation because he _needed _to find a way out of this situation.

_Not out_, James corrected. He wasn't going to give Kendall what he wanted and quit.

No, he needed to figure out a way to change up the dynamic. He needed something to put Kendall at ease and stop feeling like he needed to fight James all the time. Goddamn it, he wanted Kendall to like him. Even if it wasn't in _that _way.

Tomorrow had to be better than today was. If it was any worse, James was seriously considering decking Kendall for being an asshole. And that wouldn't make Kendall like him any more than he already didn't.

James' stomach grumbled, and he opened his fridge with a glare. Empty, of course. A half-empty bottle of orange juice and a sad glass jar of mustard adjourned the shelves. He was going to need to order in, again. And then it hit him.

He needed to emphasize to Kendall that they agreed that food was at the center of his videos. What better way to convince him than to put him back in the kitchen? Back in his element.

_Pizza first_, James thought, _plan later._

* * *

Kendall poured himself a big glass of red wine and thought, _I fucking earned this_.

He'd known this transition would be hard. He'd spent his entire professional life in prestigious restaurant kitchens where marketing was something the PR reps dealt with so diners would pay hundreds of dollars to eat at the latest and greatest.

Kendall had personally always thought of it as an inside joke, something completely made up. Not something real and concrete that people spent time and effort to research. He sort of figured he'd design the show, film the episodes, and the marketing guys would come in and figure out what sort of bullshit they needed to say about it so people would watch.

As it turned out, that was not how it worked at all. It turned out that Kendall was going to be saddled with some marketing 'expert' who would be criticizing and forcing him into changing everything along the way until the end result only vaguely resembled Kendall's initial vision.

That James guy was determined, Kendall thought as he opened his fridge and perused the contents. Hot, because Kendall was human and he couldn't avoid thinking about it more than once today, but annoyingly determined.

At lunch, Dak had said they'd had the fridge and pantry stocked for him. And it had definitely been done with a chef in mind, with a plethora of fresh ingredients. The apartment itself felt like an accidental luxury, all open rooms and this enormous kitchen with fantastic natural light.

Kendall had planned on coming back to his apartment and getting drunk so he wouldn't have to think about James' sour milk expression every time Kendall opened his mouth-or his enticing hazel eyes. But maybe there was something he could do to make tomorrow marginally better.

Maybe there was a way he could win James over to his side. Maybe there was a way to control James other than disparaging him. It wouldn't be a hardship, Kendall thought as he sipped the wine, he was good-looking, and Kendall was attracted to him. Of course, Kendall was attracted to most good-looking men, but with all the couples at Five Points, there wasn't a reason not to act on it. It wasn't against the rules. He could see James flustered and warm, bow tie dangling, sleeves rolled up, a slight dusting of flour on his cheek. Lips swollen pink from Kendall's mouth.

It would be easy. Maybe too easy.

Kendall turned back to the fridge. Maybe there was a way to kill two birds with one stone.

* * *

**Done! So...yeah. Kames definitely haven't gotten off on the right foot.**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed! I loved hearing your thoughts on the first chapter. A lot of you seemed fond of Logan, and you'll definitely get to see a bit more of him throughout the story. The next chapter of this story will more than likely be up a little later in the week or sometime next weekend.**

**Until then! :D**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello again everyone! Welcome back to Explosive!**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter. I would also like to give a huge thank you to Side1ways, winterschild11, Guest, XxxAnimaniacxxX, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

"I've been looking for you."

Kendall looked up to see his brand-new partner standing in the doorway of his cubicle. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the cubicle thing, but he definitely knew how he felt about James.

Kendall gave himself a little mental pat on the back for the annoyed edge in James' voice, and then another that he was ignoring how incredible James' ass looked in those tight jeans.

Maybe it was petty or childish, but it felt so satisfying. Kendall had spent time around lots of egotistical perfectionists over the years, but none of them had ever had a stick up their ass quite the way James Diamond did.

"I've been sitting right here. For at least an hour." Kendall said before leaning back and enjoying the way James' face struggled to find control. He also just plain enjoyed James' face, but neither those gorgeous hazel eyes nor his brunet hair, and not even the lean, toned body he was showcasing in those skinny jeans could entice Kendall to get in bed with someone so uptight.

James walked into the cubicle and glanced down at Kendall's laptop screen. He pointed to the left of the laptop, where a neon-green Post-it note read, "Please join me in the kitchen when you get here," in what must be James' neat handwriting.

Kendall thought James could have sold his handwriting to some font website, and hipsters would be falling all over themselves to buy it.

"Oh, I didn't see that. Don't know how I missed it." Kendall didn't even attempt to sound convincing. Besides, they both knew he was lying.

James crossed his arms and his eyes shot bullets. It made him _slightly _terrifying-and also cuter if you were into that sort of thing. Which Kendall was not. _Definitely _not. He'd told himself last night that he wasn't going to try and seduce James to control him. This morning, the prospect looked a lot more appealing.

Or maybe that was just James.

"What have you even been doing?" James asked.

This was the opening Kendall had been dying for.

"I'm so glad you asked. I decided to do a little show-and-tell experiment."

James didn't look convinced. Or amused. Which only amused Kendall further. He wasn't usually such an asshole, but he wasn't going to share Pastry by Kendall with anyone, especially a marketing "expert" like James. He'd only had to be in his new partner's presence for approximately ten point two seconds to realize that James was the kind that didn't give up easily. Thus, Kendall's attitude shift to being as annoying as possible. Kendall had a little sister; there was no way James could hold out against the pain and suffering Kendall could bring him.

Kendall clicked on the video he'd been working on. James watched it soundlessly and Kendall watched James. Other than a very subtle eye twitch, Kendall gave James a handful of points for reigning in his explosion of annoyance.

"You filmed an episode of your show in your apartment last night." James stated.

"I did." Kendall said unrepentantly.

"You made a Twinkie."

"Actually," Kendall drawled, "it's better known as a Ding Dong. And it's a _homemade _Ding Dong. I don't know if you've ever tried the store-bought version, but this one is infinitely better. Tastes a whole lot less like cardboard."

James' eye was twitching harder.

"A Ding Dong." He repeated in disbelief. "How did you even film this? With your phone?"

"Yep." Kendall admitted happily. "Rigged it up on one of those fake house plants with some duct tape. Had to drop by Dak's office this morning and let him know how much I appreciated such a stocked apartment. And not just the fridge."

"That was me." James said. "I stocked your apartment." He looked like he'd love to march right over and un-stock it.

Kendall was delighted. He'd anticipated how this might go, and it was going better than even his wildest expectations. He ignored the little voice that said just how much he'd enjoy it if James lost it and threw him down on the desk.

He also ignored what came next in that little fantasy.

Kendall shot James his most charming smile, but the recipient did not look particularly charmed. "Oh, thank you. It all came in handy, as you can see."

"I can definitely see that." James leaned down, and Kendall caught a whiff of his cologne. Something tart and lemony. It suited him. "Now you're going to come with me to the kitchen, and we're going to figure out how to work together. On a video of you doing something impressive that isn't a Ding Dong."

"You don't think that would be cute?" Kendall asked, and thought maybe he'd taken it a step too far because the look on James' face was suddenly not playing around.

Having worked in very tough kitchens and the Terroir, Kendall was used to people wanting to kill him. What he _wasn't_ used to was people who looked like they wanted to kill him slowly, and might enjoy it the whole time.

"Okay." Kendall relented. "I can do that." He was still chalking this up as a win because anything that put that look on a man's face was worth the effort it took to rig up a phone on a fake ficus tree.

"Look, I know this isn't easy for either of us. But I do think we can make it work." James looked like he was repeating something out of a handbook for crisis management. The problem was that he also looked like he meant it.

Kendall tried to ignore the pulse of guilt at how he'd deliberately tried to rile him up, and mostly failed.

"If you say so." Kendall said. He didn't see either of them relinquishing control to the other anytime soon, and he had a feeling that James liked compromise just as much as Kendall did-basically, not at all.

"I do." James responded, and Kendall was sure James was grinding his teeth together. Then he turned and stomped right out of the cubicle.

Kendall was still seeing that look of James'-the one that promised a slow and painful death if he didn't follow-so he followed.

And if that also meant he got a nice back view of those skinny jeans, he wasn't exactly complaining.

They got to the kitchen, and James breezed right by the schedule board that he'd so helpfully and earnestly pointed out yesterday. Kendall had just enough time to see that they definitely had not been scheduled for this morning.

James stopped by one of the long counters and gave Kendall a frank look that shouldn't have been hot, but apparently was. Kendall didn't have a history of liking confrontational men, but either his tastes had changed, or he apparently found James a lot more attractive than he wanted to admit.

"Let's see what you can do." James said. He gestured around the kitchen. "This is your domain. Bake me something."

Kendall ignored the jibe about what he could do. It wasn't worth his time to refute it, and they both knew it. Massimo Bottura wouldn't tolerate someone in his kitchen who didn't know what he was doing.

"What do you like?"

"Me?" James sounded disbelieving, like he couldn't imagine Kendall wanting to personally bake him something. And honestly, Kendall didn't want to, but he had a feeling there was only so much he could fight back against this arrangement without making Dak pissed at him. Dak, while admittedly giving up Hansens, was still _Dak Zevon_. The thought of pissing him off was not a pleasant one.

"You said, and I quote, 'bake me something.' Tell me what you like."

James waved a hand. "Oh, I don't really like sweets. So...anything, I guess. It doesn't matter."

There was a roaring in his ears as Kendall tried to process this statement. "You...don't...like...sweets."

"Are you deaf _and _intractable?" James asked.

"No, I'm just trying not to...cry or something." Kendall muttered. "You realize what I create isn't exactly the same as a bag of M&M's or a bag of Oreo cookies."

"Of course I do."

Kendall tried to keep his temper leashed. It wasn't easy, probably because it felt like James was pushing all his buttons, even the ones he liked having pushed.

"Tell me what you might like if you liked sweets."

"Apparently once when I was four I ate a whole bag of Reese's peanut butter cups. I threw them all up afterwards, but I did eat them." James didn't even act like this was a horrifying memory.

"Perfect." Kendall said, the finished product already emerging in his mind. His recipes usually started with the end product and worked backward. Each step was a way to achieve what he'd already conceived in his head.

Right now, he was imagining a fluffy deeply peanut butter-y cookie, dotted with the sharp bitterness of dark chocolate chunks.

James whipped out a pad and started writing.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking notes." James responded. "This whole experiment is to figure out how you work. I already know how I work. The end goal is to try to mesh something together of the two."

Kendall raised a dubious eyebrow. "You really think we can compromise?"

"Not really." James admitted. "But I've never given up, ever. I'm not about to start now." He hesitated. "What are you doing now?"

"Standing here?"

James made a grumpy sound that shouldn't have been as cute as it was.

"In your head, silly. What are you _thinking_?"

Kendall had never talked about his process before. Everyone had a slightly different one, and nobody usually cared about the intricacies, as long as the end result was good.

"I usually construct an idea of what I'm baking in my head first. Then work backward to figure out the exact recipe steps."

Scribbling away in his notebook, James nodded. "What's the idea you're creating today?"

"Peanut butter cookie with dark chocolate chunks." Kendall said.

"Now that wasn't so hard." James shot back with a sly, challenging look that Kendall told himself he hated. He never lied to himself, but he knew he was now.

"Supplies?" Kendall asked, changing the subject. He didn't want to trade flirty quips. He wanted to prove to James that there was no way they could figure out how to work together.

"What, you haven't already familiarized yourself with the kitchen layout and pantry?" James snarked right back. He definitely sounded bitter over Kendall filming his own video.

And...okay, he probably deserved that. Though baking that Ding Dong had been pretty damn satisfying-almost as satisfying as James' reaction to it-it was still on the tip of his tongue to apologize. Only the thought of leaving Terroir, moving to LA, and somehow losing control of Pastry by Kendall in the process, kept him silent.

Ignoring why his base instinct was yelling at him to treat James nicer, he trailed after the other man, who pointed out the tucked away pantry and the big commercial fridges against the far wall.

James returned to his pad, scribbling with his eyes down as Kendall methodically went through and picked out his ingredients. Setting everything on the counter and beginning to sort through so he could get everything set up, he glanced over at his partner.

He knew James wasn't going to tell him and so there was no point in asking, but Kendall found he couldn't help the question. "What are you writing?"

James didn't even glance up. "Terrible, dreadful things."

Kendall rolled his eyes.

"I thought you'd already deemed this experiment a failure before it even began." James continued. "So why do you even care?"

"Maybe I want to know all the terrible, dreadful things."

James looked up and even across the room, his intense eyes felt piercing, right through all the skin and muscle and into his chest.

"First off, you spent probably four hours making homemade Ding Dongs. I'm not sure you deserve to know."

"Six." Kendall said, and it was technically true, but it also did what he'd intended, which was to get James' attention away from that stupid notebook again.

"What?" James demanded. "You spent _six _hours on those stupid Ding Dongs?" He sounded even more affronted than he had when he'd first found out about them.

Kendall shrugged. "I'm a perfectionist. I have to make a recipe more than once to get it right."

"How many times usually?"

"Last night? Four. Today? We'll just have to see."

"Well, you have the kitchen for three more hours today." James said unrepentantly. "So it's however many batches of cookies you can bake in that time."

"Only three?" Kendall knew he was pouting. He was also painfully aware that they had bridged a snarky, sharped-edged back-and-forth that vaguely resembled flirting.

"It would have been four if you didn't waste an hour this morning not coming to the kitchen when I asked you to."

Kendall returned his focus to the mixing bowl in front of him. If he only had three hours, he needed to focus, and stop bantering with James. If that was even what they were doing. Maybe it wasn't bantering if it was one-sided. And Kendall was sure it was one-sided. James didn't look like anything distracted him from work.

Especially someone James intended to control. He talked big about compromise, but Kendall had a feeling that James had zero experience compromising. Probably as far as James was concerned, all compromise meant was that you'd conceded.

Kendall wasn't great at it either, but even if he had been, he couldn't do it here. Not with Pastry by Kendall. Not when he was taking such a risk in leaving the restaurant industry. If he failed here, he might not be able to get another job like the one he'd had at Terroir. And Kendall knew he'd never get his job at Terroir back.

He wasn't even sure he wanted it back if it came to that, but the phantom sting of potential failure made him turn away from the temptation James presented, and back to his mixing bowl.

James was a distraction, and almost certainly the enemy. Even worse, Kendall was beginning to realize he might like him more than he hated him.

* * *

Kendall was fascinating to watch as he worked. James was trying to spend more of his time scribbling down notes and ideas versus staring at the other man like a creeper, but it was hard because he totally had a thing for competent people. Watching Kendall was like competence porn; he was so instinctual and confident, it was very hard to look away once you'd started.

He'd been trying to keep his questions to a minimum in order to give Kendall a chance to work uninterrupted. James might have been worried about Kendall unconsciously changing his process because he was being observed, but there was an innate certainty in every movement he made. Besides, James thought bitterly, Kendall had had zero issues about demonstrating exactly what he thought of James' involvement in this project.

Rigging up a phone in a fake ficus. James didn't know what he could have said or done to make someone so desperate to prove themselves. What Kendall didn't realize was that while James was committed to making a successful show that appealed to a wide range of audience members, he was also committed to producing a show that Kendall could be proud of.

The problem, James thought, his eyes returning again to a pair of graceful hands as they cracked eggs, was they were both too determined to be in charge.

It was James' natural position, and while he wasn't sure it was Kendall's, Kendall was clearly determined not to relinquish creative control.

James still believed they could find a compromise they could both be happy with; the problem lay with convincing Kendall of that fact. And, considering what Kendall had done when he thought he'd been backed into a corner, it was not going to be easy.

James didn't need easy-he'd been living the hard way for as long as he could remember-but easy still would have been nice. It also would have been nice if Kendall had returned even an iota of the interest that James was trying to forget he felt. But clearly, James was alone there.

He usually didn't let himself feel regret, but if he had, he might have wallowed in it a very tiny bit. He might have also wondered what could have been if they'd met in a bar, or a coffee shop or even on Grindr, and Pastry by Kendall hadn't been this big, looming, impossible thing between them.

James looked down and realized he'd doodled a heart in the margin of his notebook. He scribbled it out with such hard pen strokes, the paper tore. When he looked up, Kendall was watching him, amusement tilting up the corner of his lips.

"You writing more terrible, dreadful things?" Kendall asked.

_Ha_. If he only knew just how terrible they were.

James shook his head. "Just an idea that wouldn't work out."

"Those are usually the best sort of ideas."

This was definitely not James' experience. Of course, he'd made a habit of always doing the stuff that people said was impossible. Go to school while working three jobs? Transition his part-time internship at Five Points into a full-time, paid position? Take care of himself and others when most guys his age were barely able to handle the former?

Unlike the saying, yeah, he'd definitely broken a sweat, but he'd still done it. But those were all things that he didn't share about himself. Especially not at work. Kendall would find out that he was a former intern sooner or later-hopefully later if James was lucky-but the rest was going to stay firmly locked away.

"Trust me, this one isn't." James said. Because getting Kendall to be able to stand him professionally seemed like a tall enough order. To convince him to like him personally, for them to at the very least become friends, wasn't even under consideration.

Kendall seemed to digest this as he poured vanilla from a bottle in the mixer. He wasn't measuring, and James couldn't help it.

"You're not measuring anything. How do we replicate the recipe if we don't know the proportions?"

"This is just a test batch. I'll adjust from here." Kendall said. "Besides, I might not be measuring everything out, but I know how much I'm adding."

Of course he did. James knew odd things turned him on, but finding it hot that Kendall was a human measuring cup was weird, even for him.

"Force of habit." Kendall added with a bashful, lopsided smile that would have made James' insides clench if he'd let them.

"Must come in pretty handy."

"Yeah, at home, for sure. But at the restaurant, we measured _everything_. Had to follow every recipe down to the letter."

"You didn't like that?" James was surprised. Kendall struck him as a chef who didn't do wild experimentation.

"I hated it." Kendall admitted. "I get that diners look for consistency, especially at a restaurant like Terroir, but it got really old. Sometimes I felt like I couldn't take a step out of place without having a ton of bricks come down on me."

"That's why you took this job." James said, realizing very quickly what had driven Kendall to accept their offer. "You were bored."

"No. I was bored so I started Pastry by Kendall." Kendall corrected. "I was insane, that's why I took this job."

James couldn't dignify that with a response, but when he glanced up, he saw that Kendall was actually smiling still.

"Seriously?"

"I made you a video of me baking a Ding Dong," Kendall said, "do you really think insanity scares me off?"

"Obviously not."

"It's just like I said. Sometimes, the worst ideas are the best ones." Kendall folded in the dark chocolate chunks he'd just been chopping off the big block. "Dark chocolate, as dark as I'm using, is probably going to be complete shit in this recipe, but I'm trying it anyway."

James' jaw dropped a little. "You think those aren't going to be good? Then why are you making them?" It seemed like a total waste of time and resources to bake something Kendall didn't think was going to be good. But he'd done it anyway.

Clearly, this was part of the reason why they hadn't gotten along right away. They both had very different ideas of how to go about a project.

"Because I thought they might actually be brilliant, and I had to know. I made those strawberry raspberry tarts that everyone loved so much eight times before I was happy with them." He gave a careless shrug.

James realized that Kendall really didn't care how long something took before he declared it finished. In a terrible premonition, he could see blown budgets, billowing grocery bills, and an intractable chef whose perfectionism somehow eclipsed James' own.

It was not a pretty picture of the future. Even if James had been inclined to let Kendall take over and have complete control of Pastry by Kendall, he couldn't let it happen because Kendall wasn't just fooling around in his own kitchen. There was a lot more on the line now, including, James thought with a mental shudder, _his _job.

"How long are they going to bake for?" James asked, eyeing the filling cookie sheet with trepidation. If these weren't outstanding, they were going to have to go through this process as many times as Kendall wanted until he was satisfied.

"Ten minutes, give or take." Kendall said.

James scribbled that number down, next to the list of ingredients Kendall had used. Kendall might be lazy about measurements, but the point of this show was to make what he did accessible to the regular viewer. That meant recipes-proven, tested, _reliable_ recipes-that accompanied each video.

"Did you just write that down?"

James glanced up at Kendall's incredulous voice. "Of course I wrote it down. You might not be measuring, but we need to provide a recipe for the cookies to everyone who watches the video."

Kendall wiped his hands deliberately on the towel he'd draped across his shoulder. James, in a moment of unbelievably weak hormones, thought it made him look like a romantically temperamental chef. _Delete the romantic part of that, _James thought to himself morosely and braced himself for another round of _I'm a big fancy chef and I know better than you do because I took a class on how to chop an onion._

"I didn't realize we were doing that." Kendall said.

James couldn't help but explode.

"Of course we're doing that." James ground out. "How do you think this site makes the money to pay you? Hits. And you get hits by directing people to the recipe and the site, where we sell ads that pay for all of this."

Kendall rolled his eyes. "I'm not an idiot."

The problem was James had a temper. A temper that he'd spent a lifetime hiding and controlling and stuffing back into its little box, but a temper nonetheless. And Kendall was the most tempting target for it that James had run across in a long time.

"Then don't behave like one." He snapped, all too aware that Kendall's laid-back, infuriating, patronizing personality was breaking him, a little bit at a time.

James did not like being broken. He'd learned to assert control over himself because he didn't always have control over his environment, and Kendall, with his annoyingly good looks and bullshit attitude, was taking him right back to a time James never wanted to revisit.

Kendall didn't say a word, merely turned back towards the counter and began piling dishes into the sink. James returned to his notebook and scribbled out the line he'd written about compromise. There was going to be no compromise. He would prove to Kendall, one day at a time, that he was the one who was in charge of this show, and it was Kendall's job to develop the recipes in a reasonable timeframe, and then stand in front of the camera and charm the women of the world into attempting his recipes.

It would happen because James had never failed in his life and he wasn't about to start now. It that meant he had to become an asshole to meet Kendall's asshole, and forever ditch the tiny bit of hope that something could have grown between them, so be it.

* * *

Kendall ran some hot water over the dishes in the sink as the first batch of cookies baked and then began to reassemble the ingredients for a new batch. He hadn't tasted the first ones yet, because they weren't out of the oven, but he didn't need to. He'd never made a recipe that couldn't be further perfected.

And James could just pry his head out of that exasperatingly cute ass and get with the program.

Ever since marching the two of them into the kitchen, he'd been making noise about compromise, but Kendall knew one thing for sure-James had never compromised in his life, and he wasn't about to start now. The sour-milk look on his face after Kendall had confessed to redoing the strawberry raspberry tarts told him everything he needed to know. There was no way James was going to let him be true either to his vision or his training. And sharing recipes! Kendall didn't feel comfortable with that at all. The point of Pastry by Kendall had never been to make the food accessible to anyone. It had been to express his point of view.

Having to dumb down his processes so the common person could follow along was not something that Kendall was interested in doing.

The alarm on the oven beeped, and Kendall sauntered off to take a look. The cookies were baking nicely, looking fluffy and full in the middle, and just browning around the outside. He opened the door, pressed on one lightly, and decided it could use another minute. He wanted a firm, cake-y cookie on the inside, but with crisp outer edges.

Kendall didn't have to look over his shoulder to know that James was writing this all down. He could hear his pen scratching across the pages as if he was doing it right next to his ear. He put in another thirty seconds, just to fuck with him.

He fully expected James to loudly and emphatically inquire what good thirty seconds of the oven time would accomplish (almost nothing) but his section of the kitchen remained quiet. Kendall knew it wouldn't last.

Pulling the cookies out of the oven, he slid them across the counter and went to grab a spatula and a cooling rack in the equipment pantry. Returning, he saw James had moved closer, bending over the pan, finger outstretched as if he was going to duplicate Kendall's movement from earlier.

"Don't touch those." Kendall growled. "They're not cool yet."

"You touched them." James said, straightening, and looking him right in the eye. Always challenging. Kendall had wondered if he was even capable of anything else. He had a sudden, blinding idea that sex with him would be fantastic. All that drive and passion and certainness focused on him.

"Yeah, but I knew what I was doing. You don't."

Kendall acted casual like he wasn't reeling from the idea of sex and James. Frankly, he probably would have thought of it before now, if they hadn't fought from almost the first moment. Kendall knew he was attracted to James. It had only been a matter of time before he considered it.

"You've made that abundantly clear." James muttered.

"Then don't touch if you don't know." Kendall said, trying to keep his temper and rapidly failing.

James threw his hands up. "They're just cookies."

"Yeah, and you've made it pretty damn obvious that I have a limited number of attempts to get them right. So," He said, voice growing hard around the edges, "don't touch."

"For the record," James said, returning to his pad and pen, "you're an asshole."

Kendall knew he really wasn't. Except maybe he was being one now, just a tiny bit. And only because if he didn't assert firm boundaries now, he was going to lose the thing that mattered most to a professional chef: his reputation.

He shoved the spatula under a cookie and transported it to the cooling rack. He repeated this with the rest of the cookies, and then went back to the mixer.

"You're making a new batch before you even taste these?" James asked incredulously.

Kendall refused to even look up from what he was doing. James was just trying to get under his skin-trying and unfortunately succeeding.

"Actually," James continued, and there was a clear munching sound of a cookie being eaten, "these are pretty good."

Kendall turned around to see James' mouth full of chewed cookie.

"I specifically told you not to touch."

"You did." James said. "I'm terrible at rules. Sorry."

He didn't sound apologetic at all.

Kendall reached over and grabbed a cookie himself, taking an experimental bite.

"I thought you didn't like sweets."

"I don't." James said. "These don't exactly make me change my mind, but they're not bad."

They were more than "not bad," in Kendall's expert opinion. They had good crumb, good texture, and the dark chocolate was an interesting juxtaposition with the richness of the batter. He made a note to add more salt next time, and to change to semi-sweet chocolate. It had been a decent first try, but he could make better cookies than this.

* * *

**Done! So it looks like Kendall and James still aren't on the same page, though I'm sure that isn't really much of a shock. :P**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed! The next chapter of this most likely won't be up until either this weekend or sometime next week.**

**Until then! :D**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello again everyone! Welcome back to Explosive!**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, Side1ways, Guest, XxxAnimaniacxxX, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

"So, how do you think it's going?" Dak asked, leaning back in his desk chair, looking relaxed because he had no idea how it was actually going.

James had a feeling that if he had even an inkling, his question wouldn't have been nearly so casual.

"Uh, it's...well...it could be going better." James believed one hundred percent in being truthful and straightforward in business, but he genuinely liked Dak and wanted Dak to not only appreciate his professional skills but to like him, too. And the truth about how Kendall felt about him and his ideas didn't reflect well on James at all.

"What happened?" Dak still didn't look worried. James didn't want to tell him that he should be, but he really _should _be.

"We're still trying to come to an agreement about the direction of the show." James said with diplomacy.

Dak finally frowned and sat up straighter in his chair. "The direction? I thought we talked about this."

"_We _did." James paused. "Kendall is very committed to having complete creative control over the content of the show."

"And he does, right?" Dak asked.

James nodded. "I keep telling him that there's a very happy middle ground between the production and marketing and the vision he has, but he's not really interested in compromise. Of any kind."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Dak asked, sounding very much like he did _not _want to moderate the discussion.

That might be the right way to proceed, but James didn't want to fix his problems with Kendall by just dragging him in front of his boss and pointing at the part in his contract that said he retained creative control, but had relinquished production control to a Five Points representative. Because that wouldn't really solve anything, and if James knew anything about this business, it would only lead to terrible shows that nobody ever wanted to watch.

He didn't just want to successfully produce Pastry by Kendall-he wanted it to be a fucking smash.

"No. I want to try to fix this without forcing you to intervene."

"Okay, how about this…" Dak said, and James was reminded that not only did he manage sixteen employees and sub-contractors at Five Points, but that he'd very successfully run a high-end restaurant with a full staff in Chicago. "What is Kendall's point of view?"

James slumped back in his chair. "I'm a super special pastry chef who makes rainbows and orgasms but I won't tell you how to make them. You need to bow down to my superior ability. I'm not going to actually teach you, you just watch my videos to bask in my cute hair and dimples and imagine you could make pastries like I do."

James ignored that this attitude of Kendall's was what had attracted him in the first place. Or that he'd wanted to be the one Kendall gave rainbows and orgasms to.

Dak chuckled. "I hate to tell you that nearly every chef is like that, at least to some extent."

"Oh, and I forgot," James added, "You must also let me follow my beautiful chef muse, even if that means baking fifteen batches of cookies when the first batch was perfectly fine."

"I thought I smelled cookies." Dak sighed. "I warned you this is how chefs are."

"You did. But I've worked with them before-you, and Liam and even others. And nobody has ever been this stubborn and difficult."

"You've never worked with me in a kitchen before." Dak said warmly. "Trust me when I say that I'm probably way more difficult than Kendall."

James was plenty loyal to his boss, but he was also a realist. "How would I convince _you _to compromise?"

"Tell me your vision for Pastry by Kendall."

That was the easiest thing Dak had asked since he had sat down. Dak had seen him walking by the open door of his office and had waved him in to discuss the progress of their newest show. James had learned after working for Dak for over two years that he hated formal meetings and much preferred organic conversation.

James had been actively trying to avoid _this _organic conversation, but the only way to get to the break room was to walk by Dak's office.

"I want a pastry chef who is willing and _wanting _to teach the housewives and teenagers and bored retirees how to bake with skill and conviction. I want clear, easy-to-follow recipes, paring down difficult concepts to easy steps. Kendall should want to help people, not condescend to them."

Dak didn't say anything for a long moment.

"Finding a compromise there is going to be tough, James."

James knew it. It was why he had spent the last two hours alternatively wanting to beat Kendall's head and his own against a wall.

"But I think there's hope in even the most dire situation." Dak continued, which James thought was probably total bullshit. He was probably just hoping that they didn't kill each other in the next few months. James had read that leadership manual before. "But if you need me to intervene, just say the word."

"I will." James said, getting up from his chair and feeling more frustrated than he had before sitting down. It was well and good to be able to accomplish the impossible on a regular basis because he put his head down and got shit done, but it would've been nice for Dak to acknowledge just how impossible of a task this was.

Unfortunately, the task began with convincing Kendall to consider compromising his artistic vision. And James had no freaking idea how to do that.

Dak wished him luck again, and James stepped into the hallway and right into Mr. Artistic Vision himself, thunderclouds in his eyes.

"What the fuck do you think you were doing in there?" Kendall demanded in a hushed, angry whisper that was not nearly as effective as he probably thought it was. He sounded raw, almost betrayed. Which, as far as James was concerned, was a serious overreaction.

"None of your business." James said.

Kendall gaped at him. "You really mean that, don't you? You really mean to make me some sort of pastry Julia Child Joan of Arc, don't you?"

James rolled his eyes. "The problem with eavesdropping is that you have no context for anything I said."

"Oh, no, I heard it all." Kendall challenged. "I heard what you said about me. All about my insufferable ego. And then how you want to bring it down to earth. _Bury it_. That's never going to happen."

It had been a long day. Scratch day-it had been a long _two _days, and the blame for that could be laid directly at the feet of the man in front of him. Without Kendall's ego, they could've already been working towards filming their first episode. Instead, James was trying to figure out a way to placate it all the damn time. All while not trying to fantasize about what he looked like bent over the kitchen counter.

"Listen," James said, grabbing Kendall by the forearm and dragging him further down the hall towards the break room, which was certain to be empty at this hour in the early evening. When he reached the room, he dropped Kendall's arm like it had stung him. Touching was bad. Touching would expose what he really wanted.

"Listen," He repeated, "I am sick of your bullshit. I'm trying to get something done here, and instead of even _trying _to listen, you just keep pontificating about how fucking awesome you are. Get over your damn self."

"_Me_?" Kendall retorted. He pushed a finger right against James' chest and pushed him back towards the soda machine. Caught off guard, James' back hit the machine and he couldn't escape before Kendall crowded right in front of him.

This close, his eyes were definitely thunderclouds. It shouldn't have been sexy...but it sort of was.

"Definitely you. You're ninety-nine point nine percent of the problem here." James argued.

"You walk around like the hottest thing in chinos, all spreadsheets and calculators and stupid bow ties." Kendal muttered. "You don't know a _damn thing_. You don't even like dessert!"

"Not even yours." James retorted, which was only sort of true. He shouldn't, but he wanted to taste Kendall's dessert more than ever.

Not just his desserts if he was being completely honest.

Kendall's brows drew together like two dark slashes against his skin. "You're an asshole."

James found himself almost pinned and almost breathless. And only mostly because of the argument he was currently having. "Takes one to know one."

James could see that he was breathing hard, fists clenched together at his sides. James had never considered the fact that Kendall might punch him, because Kendall worked in a kitchen, for god's sake, physical violence couldn't be up his alley, and yet, he seemed tempted to do it.

James got it. He'd been punched more than once growing up because he was an asshole. Or maybe because he was smarter than his parent of the week, or this month's brother.

"I'm not going to do this with you." Kendall finally spat out. "I'm not going to let you ruin me."

"Ditto." James said, and between the two of them, he was definitely convinced that he was the more determined of the two. After all, look at what he'd forcibly put behind him. Nobody was more motivated than he was to do his job and to do it to everyone's satisfaction.

He had already come to terms with the knowledge that he'd never be able to satisfy Kendall. There was no point crying over that spilled milk.

Kendall leaned in, his expression both intense and inscrutable. "Are you even going to tell me what you were doing in Dak's office? I heard you complaining about me."

Complaining? James hadn't even gotten started complaining. "At Dak's request, I was giving him a fair assessment of our situation."

"I'm not an egotistical prick!" Kendall said hotly. James knew just how hot it was, because he could practically feel Kendall's very firm thigh pushing against his own. He didn't know how they'd suddenly gotten so close, but he wasn't sure he could complain about it.

Not for the first time, James was surprised that his own weakness for someone who did _not _deserve it kept cropping up. He should have felt pissed as hell that Kendall was trying to intimidate him. The only problem was it more of a turn-on than anything else.

James wasn't usually this conflicted, and he hated it.

"Then stop acting like it." James said. "You've been acting like hot shit ever since you arrived. I don't care if I never went to culinary school, I'm not a moron. I know it sounds crazy, but we might even learn to like working together."

Kendall's breath stopped short. They were so close, James could hear it, and feel the lack of it against his cheek. There was an awful, horrific pause of total silence, like Kendall was contemplating how completely insane it was for them to ever like working together.

Or maybe he was figuring out that James had just one of his closely held secrets slip. He'd wanted so fucking badly for them to be friends. To _like _working together. To maybe, in some faraway fantasy vision, find something even deeper.

Now Kendall probably knew, and Kendall was probably disgusted

Of course, he didn't look disgusted. He staring at James, at his mouth actually, and there wasn't a hint of disgust to be seen.

James tensed as Kendall's hands slammed on the wall behind him, bracketing his head. And before James could demand to be released, Kendall's mouth was on his.

It was probably the angriest kiss James had ever had. It was raw and anguished and bizarre. Kendall's lips crushed against his, moving hotly, desperately, like he had to convince himself or maybe even the both of them, that there was no way in hell they could ever get along.

_But we're kissing_, James thought helplessly.

It was nothing like James had imagined it would happen. Part of him wanted to punch Kendall for doing it now, when they wanted to kill each other. Part of him wanted to melt into Kendall, and show him just how much he'd wanted him from the very first moment of Pastry by Kendall.

It was a problem.

Abruptly, it ended. Really, before it could even begin-or at least before it could begin anything other than angry and intense. Kendall's breath was coming hard now, in fast, furious little pants. His eyes were slanted to the side, like he couldn't even bear looking at James. Like maybe he _was _disgusted.

That thought pushed James over the limit and he tumbled right off the cliff. He set the heel of his hand against Kendall's chest and shoved him, hard, pushing him away.

"Get your shit together and start acting like a professional." James said.

Kendall shook his head, blank confusion still written all over his face. His stupid, cute face. He turned and walked away, leaving James shook up and pissed off, his blood hot with no convenient outlet.

That wasn't the worst of the offenses he could lay at Kendall's feet, but it sure as hell felt like the worst right now.

* * *

The accusation and his lips burned all the way to Napa.

Kendall had stormed right out of the Five Points offices, and had caught a ride right to the rental car office, where he used some of his signing bonus to rent a car.

He spent the next six hours contemplating every way that he could make James pay for his words and trying to forget how James' mouth felt against his. He didn't know how the kiss had even happened, only that it happened and that his world felt rocked by it.

He hit the town limits right around eleven and headed straight to Terroir, where, as he'd expected, employees were beginning to drift out the back door.

Carlos and Jett walked out first, unsurprisingly, because Mossimo Bottura could never bear for Logan to be the one of the first out the door.

Kendall rolled down the car window and whistled. Jett's head turned his direction, and his jaw dropped.

"What are you doing here?" Jett asked, jogging over to the car. "Aren't you supposed to be Julia Child-ing in LA?"

"That's not a verb." Carlos said, joining them. "Julia Child is a person, not an action."

"You've been around Logan too long. And if you're Kendall, it is." Jett said, and it wasn't surprising to hear that rough edge of disapproval in his friend's voice, but it hurt anyway.

He'd given up the camaraderie and Terroir for what exactly? Some uptight prick who wanted to make everyone a world-class pastry chef? Kendall didn't know what he'd been thinking. To be frank, Kendall still didn't know what the fuck he was thinking.

"So why are you even here?" Jett asked.

Kendall forced himself to shrug casually. "Let's go home, open some wine, and I'll tell you about it."

But as the other's piled into Kendall's compact rental, he didn't even know how to begin telling them about it. _I thought I'd go to LA and run the town the moment I showed up? I thought I'd get to call the shots, and now that I can't, I'm freaking out and pulling the ego card? I'm going around kissing my producer when he tells me to get my ego in check?_

What stung the most about James' accusations was that they weren't so far from the truth. They hit right in the most tender, honest parts of himself. He was being a bratty unprofessional. He was panicking, and that explained some of it, but he was way out of his element and he didn't trust James enough to let him guide them in the right direction.

How could you trust someone who made you kiss them even when you didn't like them? And how could Kendall possibly trust him when all James wanted to do was teach every man, woman, and child how to make world-class desserts, _and _he didn't even like them?

There was an exclusivity that surrounded chefs like Kendall and Carlos and Jett, and sometimes even Logan. It was a cult that was cultivated by chefs like Mossimo Bottura. And what it proclaimed, loud and clear, was that not everybody could join. You had to pass the test. You had to prove yourself. You couldn't just turn on YoutTube and walk in. There was a blood, sweat, and tears barrier that had to be crossed first. It was what made Mossimo able to charge hundreds of dollars for a single meal. If everyone could make it, then everyone might, and they would all be out of a job.

Kendall hadn't made the rules, but he was expected to live by them. And some upstart guy with spreadsheets and a marketing degree and tight khakis that made Kendall's dick ache wasn't going to make him break them.

XxX

He'd been gone from the house they'd all shared for less than a week, but already Kendall felt nostalgic as they all collapsed on the various sitting surfaces in the living room. They all had their special spot, and Kendall still got the particularly comfy corner of the couch.

"Don't worry," Jett said with a roll of his eyes, "I haven't appropriated it yet. I couldn't get comfy in it because the dents in it still match your ass."

Kendall never thought he'd miss Jett's snide little comments, but he'd take Jett's mostly open hostility over James' insidious back-stabbing manipulation. Even thinking of him now and the innocent openness of his expression right after Kendall had caught him red-handed burned.

"I figure this is as good a time as any to open this." Carlos said, walking into the living room holding a dusty bottle.

"Beau gave that to you, didn't he?" Logan asked, because he hadn't had _that _kind of boyfriend yet, and was still blissfully naive. Kendall and Jett were both too smart to bring up Beau, Carlos' asshole sommelier ex-boyfriend, had given him the bottle in his hands.

"Fuck that asshole, anyway." Jett said.

Carlos' expression grew wistful. "I know you all hated him, but he wasn't so bad."

"Quick," Kendall said, "let's drink wine before Carlos changes his mind and gets nostalgic about his relationship with Beau."

"More like gets nostalgic about what great wine Beau would always buy." Jett added.

Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to open this or not?"

"We've been staring at it for more than six months." Jett said. "And nine before that, when you were still together and you felt obligated to drink it with that dick. Open the fucking wine."

Carlos made a face but started opening the wine anyway.

"Logan broke our fourth wine glass." Jett explained when Carlos brought out three wine glasses and a champagne flute.

"It wasn't my fault!" Logan exclaimed, though out of a kitchen, he was notoriously clumsy.

"And the sky isn't blue." Jett muttered.

Kendall took the glass Carlos handed him and did a showy little swirl. He wasn't a sommelier like Beau, but he'd take a few classes about wine, and he could tell from the bouquet that it was pretty good. Maybe not as good as Beau had sworn it was he thought as he sipped, but pretty damn good.

The problem was that Beau had always oversold everything-and that included himself. It had been a very good day when Carlos had finally shown him the door. And, _bonus_, he'd gotten to keep the birthday gift Beau had given him a few months before.

"Dish." Carlos said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, eyes bright in the dim room. "I wouldn't have opened this wine if I didn't think it would loosen your tongue."

Kendall tipped the glass in a faux toast. "You're a real giver."

"Seriously," Jett complained, "what the fuck are you doing back here?"

Kendall didn't even know where to begin. He didn't want to talk about James, but everything started with him.

"You know how we all really liked Beau at first, and it took us a long time-some of us a _very _long time-to realize he was a tool?"

A round of nods.

They'd all been happy when Carlos had started dating Beau. He was decent and had access to better wine than any of them could afford. Plus, nobody else had dated anyone seriously during the time they'd all lived together. Jett was too mean to date anyone, Kendall liked to keep things more casual, and from the very beginning, Logan had this unfortunate crush on their boss he continually denied but was obvious from about a hundred miles away.

"Well," Kendall continued, "that isn't what happened with my producer. I pretty much hated him right away." This hadn't really been true then, and it definitely wasn't true now. But it made for a simpler story. Definitely easier than explaining that his feelings were intense and confused. Too difficult to try to explore, even with his best friends.

Logan made an aborted shocked noise. Logan was also too nice and naive to ever hate anyone at first sight.

"I don't buy it." Jett said knowingly. "You don't hate anyone at first sight. That's me, not you."

This was unfortunately true. Kendall's first impression of James hadn't ben hatred; it had been vague interest at his cute ass and enticing hazel eyes. And he'd seemed nice and eager to please. Even if nothing he said had particularly pleased Kendall.

"You haven't met him," was all Kendall said. They'd already had to discuss Beau tonight; they didn't need to rehash all of Kendall's poor romantic judgment too-_and _they didn't even know the half of it.

"I can't believe you only lasted two days." Carlos said with a shake of his head. It sounded like a Jett comment, and it stung.

"I'm not _back_." Kendall retorted. But he knew how it looked. He knew how good it felt; how comfortable and routine to sit on this couch and drink a glass of wine and bullshit with his three friends.

Like he'd slid right back down into the same life he'd already acknowledged he'd grown out of. There was nothing to do but take a big gulp of wine, and appreciate the acidic burn.

"Does this mean you have to pay back the money?" Jett asked.

Kendall knew he wasn't going to pay back a dime. He was tied up, metaphorically and legally. The rest of his glass of wine slid down his throat with none of the ceremony Carlos' ex-boyfriend would have required.

He got up from the comfy corner of the couch; suddenly it didn't fit the same way it had. He walked in the kitchen, which looked a little barer without Kendall's precious copper pots. The thought stung, and he turned away, towards the sad little cabinet that contained their meager liquor collection-most of which they'd kept to be used in Kendall's desserts.

He grabbed the half-full bottle of knockoff Kahlua and returned to the living room. This time, he didn't take the corner on the couch but settled on the edge of the arm.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked. Only Logan wouldn't recognize a meltdown requiring alcohol, Kendall thought.

"Getting drunk," Kendall said at the same time as Jett said, "Trying to forget he's already made his bed."

Kendall glared over at Jett. It was a little rawer than usual because he's already taken two swigs of the terrible Kahlua knockoff and if he'd thought Beau's wine had burned going down, it had nothing on this shit.

"You can't come back." Jett said by way of explanation, and his casual shrug burned even more than the wine and the bad Kahlua combined.

Kendall took another long drink, straight from the bottle. "Anyone joining me?"

Carlos laughed. "We all have to work tomorrow. Unlike you, apparently."

Kendall could only imagine James' affronted expression when he didn't turn up the next morning, and then the exaggerated annoyance when he used his key to check Kendall's apartment and discovered he wasn't there.

He could also imagine the smug edge to his annoyance. How James would imagine that Kendall had conceded victory.

Kendall let more booze slide down his throat and snapped his fingers in Logan's direction. "Go get your laptop."

A wrinkle appeared between Logan's brows." I really don't think you should be making a video now, Kendall."

Kendal frowned. "I'm not making a video, I'm writing a fucking email."

Jett looked concerned now. A sure sign that everyone was convinced Kendall was melting down. Even Kendall was convinced, but he didn't give a shit anymore.

He waved the plastic bottle. He should've stopped at the store and bought some half-decent booze to lose it with.

"I'm not going to actually send it." He assured them. "I just want to write it. That's why I'm using Logan's laptop. It never stays connected to the Wi-Fi."

The glance Carlos gave him was galling. "I don't think this is a good idea."

Kendall finished the bottle with a gross belch that tasted of pretty good red wine and bad Kahlua and definite regrets. "It's the best fucking idea I've had in a while."

Logan must have been at least partially convinced-or maybe he was trying to distract Kendall from the liquor cabinet-because he went and got his laptop and reluctantly handed it over.

Kendall traded the laptop for the empty Kahlua bottle, which Logan took with a dubious look and an even more dubious sniff.

"You're a snob." Kendall told him with a shake of his head.

"I just don't get it." Logan said earnestly. "You're...okay, you _were _a chef at one of the best restaurants in the world. How can you even stomach bad liquor like that?"

Kendall was booting up the laptop and was so focused on the white-hot ball of rage lighting his way that he nearly missed Jett's answer.

"Logan," he said much more patiently than usual, "you wouldn't get it. But sometimes you _want_ it to burn going down."

That was the goddamn truth.

Kendall wanted to burn the whole world down, starting with his taste buds and his throat and his stomach. Next stop, James' infuriating ego.

Not one, not _once _in his whole fucking career, had anyone-either a superior or a head chef or co-worker-ever had a reason to call him unprofessional.

Kendall wanted to burn James down because he'd dared to say it out loud and mean it. Even worse, he was _right_.

He opened Logan's browser. The Wi-fi was currently working, but it was only a matter of time before it went on the fritz. The most consistent thing in this entire house was the inconsistency of Logan's Wi-Fi. It was something Kendall was counting on because while he wanted to mentally deep fry James, he wasn't ready to deep fry his career.

Nobody, even James Diamond, was enough motivation for Kendall to throw away everything he'd killed himself to achieve.

"Are you really sure about this?" Logan asked. He sounded worried. His voice echoed the look on Carlos' face. Even Jett didn't look completely convinced. Probably because none of them had consumed half a bottle of faux Kahlua.

Knock-off Khalua was apparently the key to saying _fuck it _to the world.

"Definitely." Kendall said. The adrenaline from his fight hours ago with James was still coursing through him. It was a physical impossibility, but something about James kept him alight. Kendall didn't want to look too carefully at what that might be. He zoned right onto the outrage and bypassed the rest right by.

"Dear James," Kendall said out loud as he typed. Badly, but he wasn't sending this, so it didn't matter. This letter was only for him, an attempt to exorcise al his rage. Tomorrow he'd go skulking back to LA, tail sort-of between his legs, maybe not ready to apologize but conceptually ready to compromise. He wasn't ready to face the kiss yet, but he was sure James would want to pretend like it hadn't happened.

But first...revenge.

Logan opened his mouth to try to say something else, but Kendall talked right over him.

"Dear James," He repeated, "I really hate your face. It's a big fat fucking lie, earnest and trustworthy when you're really a big backstabber."

"Maybe you shouldn't repeat 'big' twice in one sentence." Jett inserted.

Kendall shot him a hot glare. "This isn't a fucking essay, you idiot."

Jett just shrugged, and Kendall felt the room begin to spin as he tried to focus on his face. But he dug down deep and returned to his email.

"How about horrible backstabber?" Carlos suggested.

"Thanks, Mr. Thesaurus." Kendall retorted. His fingers were flying over the keys, insulting everything from James' stupid bow ties to his fake marketing genius to his cute ass-okay, maybe that last one wasn't quite an insult. But Kendall was trying. He didn't mention the kiss, but it was right there, hidden between the lines. The one thing he wasn't saying.

The problem was the more he wrote, the colder the fire grew until it felt just about ready to smolder out. This had been a fucking fantastic idea. He'd managed to exorcise the last of his anger, and he'd really be able to return and try to salvage this whole thing.

And then…

"Oh, shit." Kendall said, dread spinning through him faster than quicksilver. Certainly faster than the rage had spread. And unlike the rage, it made him sick. Or maybe that was the Kahlua.

"What happened?" Logan asked, scrambling to get over to where Kendall sat on the floor with the laptop. Something in Kendall's voice must have told him something terrible had happened because he could move quickly when he wanted to, and he was moving fast now.

"I pressed enter." Kendall said in a small voice.

"Oh shit." Logan said, which was unusual for him because like the Boy Scout he'd been, he almost never swore.

"What?" Jett was scrambling now, trying to join Kendall and Logan as they stared unbelieving at the laptop screen.

"I think Kendall sent the email." Logan said carefully.

"What?!" Carlos exclaimed. "How could that even happen?"

"I forgot to mention, I think I fixed the Wi-Fi." Logan said, and he sounded wretched. Not nearly as wretched as Kendall felt, and in some other universe, it might have helped that Logan felt bad, but in this one, it didn't. It didn't at all.

His brain was one long fuzzy slow-rolling image of James, all peppy and morning-person, opening his email tomorrow and being confronted with one insult after another, most of which wasn't even true. Kendall didn't even want to think about the spelling and grammar errors. No doubt James would return it to him, marked up with a red pen. His eyes would be red, too , because as frustrating as he was, he wasn't immune or cold.

He _cared_. He'd wanted a Joan of Arc Julia Child to help people in the kitchen, and all he'd gotten was the asshole half of Gordon Ramsay.

It didn't feel fair at all, even if Kendall didn't really like him. It _really_ wasn't fair if Kendall decided he _did _like him.

"Maybe we can take the email back?" Logan suggested, trying for hope and landing somewhere north of despair.

"Take the email back?" Jett asked incredulously. "It's a good thing you're not on a career path that requires any sort of technical skills. The email is gone."

"Gone." Kendall repeated hopelessly.

Someone shoved a bottle in his hand. He took a swig. It was worse than even the fake Kahlua, some sort of sickly sweet orange liquor, but Kendall didn't even care anymore. He wanted oblivion because maybe that would kill the shame.

* * *

**Done! So...yeah. Looks like things took a bit of a turn.**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed and that you all are having a great week so far! The next chapter of this will more than likely be up sometime this weekend.**

**Until then! :D**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello again everyone! Welcome back to Explosive! :D**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, Guest, Side1ways, XxxAnimaniacxxX, annabellex2, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

His mouth tasted like a Russian and a Spaniard had fought over a rotten orange and lost. As Kendall gradually fell towards consciousness, he knew only one thing: he'd never be able to drink White Russians or Spanish Coffees ever again.

For a split second, that was something to seriously mourn. And then it all came roaring back: the fight, the drive back to Napa, the wine and bitch session with his friends, and then the email from hell. Followed by the faux Kahlua and the fake orange liquor and what he was pretty sure was a drag of shame into the bathroom.

Yep, Kendall realized, that was definitely the edge of the toilet his face was resting on. It was a good thing too, because as soon as he got ambitious enough to open one sleep-crusted eye, he got instantly, horrifically sick.

Kendall wiped his mouth and settled back on the toilet seat, which thanks to Jett's OCD tendencies, was spotless. It was also a whole lot more comfortable than he'd imagined. And conveniently close to the toilet bowl, which might be making another rapid appearance in his life at any moment.

Why had he come here? He'd known his life here was done, even if the friendships weren't. Had he come so his best friends could plump his ego, even though they'd never done it before? Had he come here so they could clean his wounds? Salve his pride? He wasn't sure, though he knew the decision to get drunk and write the email had been the worse of the bunch.

Never mind that he'd never intended to send it. It was enough that he'd written it in the first place, spelling errors and odes to James' ass and all. And now James had most likely already seen it. The thought was enough to send him back to the toilet, retching helplessly because he'd already thrown most of his stomach up already.

He was fucked, and not even in the fun way.

A soft knock sounded at the door. He ignored it. He wasn't in any mood for Jett's resigned 'you've fucked up your life' bullshit.

"What?" Kendall finally croaked when they didn't go away but instead knocked again, with way more determination. Definitely more determination than Kendall felt. He was only determined not to die, and it was feeling pretty touch and go at that moment.

"Kendall, are you okay?" It was Logan, and he sounded a hell of a lot more sympathetic than Kendall deserved. As far as he was concerned, he wasn't worthy of any of it.

"No," he croaked. Might as well be honest.

"Open the door."

"You open it." Kendall retorted with more bite than he intended.

"We can't because you locked it, you idiot." That was Carlos, who was even more protective over Logan than Kendall was. "There's someone here to see you."

It was probably Dak, here to fire Kendall and demand all his signing bonus back. Some of which he'd already spent on a stupid rental car to come up here and bitch at his friends about how hard he had it. Kendall wanted to vomit again, but nothing came. Somehow that felt like the final indignity.

"He's wearing a bow tie, Ken."

Oh, God. Even worse. James had come here in person. Probably after reading that email. He was definitely here to commit a murder on the parts of Kendall that weren't already dead, and he wasn't sure his friends would be inclined to stop him.

Then Kendall remembered the kiss and wondered if he could stay in here forever. He didn't know if he could face James, considering what he'd done and then what he'd said.

But Kendall knew he should drag himself off the floor and give James an opportunity for the murdering to begin.

It was a several-minutes-long process, gently and carefully unfolding his aching body from the position over the toilet, and then hefting himself up using the counter. He flipped on the light and only screamed a little bit, either at the brightness or the horrible image the mirror confronted him with.

He stole Jett's toothbrush and splashed some water on his face, and tried to fix his hair. It was a useless attempt, but Kendall guessed it didn't really matter anyway. Nobody would care what his hair looked like when he was dead.

Unlocking the door, Kendall braced himself, but it was only Logan standing outside, a worried crease between his brows.

"What are you doing?" Logan hissed.

"I wish I knew."

"Well, figure your shit out. Your partner you just insulted ten ways from Sunday is here."

"How did he even get here so fast?" Kendall wondered, even though the thinking hurt his brain. It could only be mid-morning because Logan hadn't left for Terroir yet.

Logan just shrugged. "He's in the kitchen."

Kendall gingerly and quietly felt his way to the kitchen, and when he arrived, he was ironically confronted by a vision of what he'd insulted-or praised. He wasn't sure. But there James was, back to him, in another pair of those tight khakis.

It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair.

"So this is where the magic all began," James said without even turning around.

Kendall didn't think he was a particularly heavy breather, but maybe James had sold his soul for magic powers so he could kill Kendall and get away with it.

"I'm not sure it was very magical," Kendall muttered, and all of a sudden he didn't know if they were talking about Pastry by Kendall or their kiss. He took a breath and tried to steady himself. He wanted to cry and apologize and tell James just how sorry he was, but there was something deep inside holding it all back. Pride? Ego? Shame? "How did you even know I was here?"

"You used your corporate credit card, it wasn't very hard to track you," James said, and there was a hint of a sneer in his tone. Like Kendall must be incredibly stupid to not be able to keep his credit cards straight-and Kendall thought he was probably right. It _was _stupid and would have topped his most embarrassing list, if not for the email.

That was going to win for a very long time. Possibly forever.

James finally turned around.

"God," He said, and there was _definitely _an audible sneer now, "you look even worse than you smell."

"Thanks," Kendall said stiffly.

If he had any embarrassment left, he'd be cringing right now.

"I guess Dak sent you up to fire me," Kendall said, uncomfortable with even vaguely referring to the email.

He'd already been rightly accused of being unprofessional; he didn't even know what this behavior was. A complete aberration. A panic-induced, ego-driven freak-out. But no, that wasn't even right, because if his ego was where it was supposed to be, he would have spent this morning working to contradict James' words, not support them.

James ignored the reference. "I came here to get you, not to fire you. We have work to do, and you're not where you're supposed to be."

It was even tougher to face James, knowing he was right. Maybe not on every count, but on every count that mattered. Sure, James shouldn't have gone blabbing to Dak, and maybe he should have shared his plans in a less autocratic way, but he'd at least been trying to work out some sort of compromise.

What had Kendall been trying to do? Get drunk and write an ode to how much he hated James' face but loved his ass?

"Okay," Kendall said.

James looked skeptical. "Just...okay? No arguments?"

"Some...discussion can be good for creativity. But you're right, I'm not where I'm supposed to be." Kendall had definitely learned that during this little unplanned trip. He was done in Napa, at least for now. He still wasn't a hundred percent convinced he was supposed to be at Five Points either, but he'd given his word, and that had used to mean something to Kendall.

So he'd go back and no matter how daunting it was for Kendall to try to live up to James' Joan of Arc Julia Child label, he'd give it his best shot. Basic cooperation was the least he could do after how he'd just insulted James.

XxX

It turned out part of how James had gotten here so quickly was that he hadn't driven.

"What's this?" Kendall asked as the black Lincoln pulled into one of the side private airstrips by the Napa airport.

With a quick phone call, James had efficiently arranged for Kendall's rental to be picked up and for their travel arrangements. Kendall hadn't been listening because he'd still been trying not to vomit. He'd sort of assumed James had come up overnight using the car service so he could grab a few hours of sleep.

Apparently not. Kendall knew that he had to stop assuming things when it came to James, because each wrong assumption was growing more and more embarrassing, and he didn't have any extra to spare.

"A favor," James said succinctly as the car stopped in front of a small white jet.

The driver grabbed their bags from the trunk and followed James and Kendall to the small set of stairs leading to the aircraft.

"What, no check-in? No ticketing gate?" Kendall knew he sounded stupid, but James' calm silence, which had lasted from their departure from the rental house to the present was unsettling and nerve-wracking. He couldn't tell when James was going to finally explode and tell him off for the things he'd said.

James stayed quiet as he climbed the stairs. The captain was waiting for them at the top, dressed in a navy-blue uniform. It was only then that Kendall glimpsed an insignia featuring a fish with particularly nasty teeth on his breast pocket. And he realized whose jet this must be.

Embarrassment felt like a mild word in comparison to what he felt now. He'd heard rumors that someone in the upper management of Five Points was married to Mike O'Connor, the famous Miami Piranhas quarterback, but since he didn't really follow sports much, he'd assumed those were just rumors.

He'd been so wrong. He and James were currently settled in comfortable blue-and-white-striped seats with tiny light blue piranhas woven into the fabric.

"None of the above," James finally said with satisfaction as he took in Kendall's stupefied expression. "First class all the way."

James calling this first class was being modest, and even though they'd only met a few days before, Kendall didn't think James tended towards humility.

He could only think that this was yet another way for James to put him, subtly or firmly, back in his place. A little flare of anger that he knew he had no right to feel burned through him.

He'd been puking less than an hour ago, and his mouth still vaguely tasted like rotten oranges. It was enough of a reminder to swallow back down the retort he'd just been about to dish back. Back at the rental house, he'd made himself a vow that he'd be professional, no matter what, even if James pushed his buttons.

How could Kendall have forgotten how good James was at pushing them?

It didn't matter, he told himself resolutely, he was going to be a professional. After the email, he owed James at least that much.

"I guess I should be grateful you came to get me then," Kendall said, leaning back into the soft leather captain's chair, trying to act like it was something he did every day.

James just rolled his eyes and got to his feet, walking over to a little cleverly disguised refrigerator under one of the gleaming wood accents. Clearly he'd been on this plane before, and that stung even more.

He turned back towards Kendall and he had two bottles of water in his hands. He tossed one in Kendall's direction.

"Thought you might still be feeling it," James said. "We're about to take off soon. This might help."

His voice was blunt, but his message was at least semi-sympathetic. It confused Kendall, whose head was still pounding.

"I wouldn't expect you to care so much," He said. He kept expecting James to mention the email. Or the kiss. Or both, together, as two actions that didn't make any sense put together.

"I don't," James said with an even blunter delivery. "But I'll get skinned alive if you puke all over his plane."

Kendall took a sip of water, grateful even though the anger he kept trying to tamp down kept cropping up.

"Trust me, it's all gone. You can keep your skin intact."

He ignored the voice inside his head that decided this was a great time to mention what gorgeous skin it was. And that it might be soft if Kendall was ever allowed to touch it.

"What a relief," James muttered sarcastically.

The desire fizzled. Dealing with James was confusing and exhausting and he was already worn out.

He heard James rustling around and then the all too familiar staccato punch of fingertips on a keyboard. He was working again, even though they were on a private plane. Kendall was grateful though because that meant he might have more time to gather himself for the apology he knew he still needed to make.

Too many damn things were floating in the air around them and until they addressed them, he didn't know how they would ever get anything done.

_I really hate your face. It's a big fat fucking lie._

He'd just close his eyes for a minute to collect himself, and then he'd figure out his apology. It wouldn't be as complicated as a Napoleon or his famous Paris-Brest even. Pastry was difficult, people were easy-usually, anyway.

XxX

"Rise and shine, sweetheart." The voice, edged with derision, could only belong to one person.

Kendall's eyes snapped open and James' face swam into view.

_I really hate your face._

What a joke his little drunken charade was turning out to be.

"Are we back?" Kendall asked groggily as he pulled himself upright. The chairs were so cushy it felt like they were sinking their padded claws into you.

"We're back." James was already facing the door, bag in hand, looking so proper and put together that Kendall wanted to swear. No doubt his hair, already a wreck, was a rat's nest on his head, and he didn't want to think what his clothes smelled like.

"Great." Kendall tried to sound enthused but definitely didn't pull it off.

"Don't worry," James said, not even bothering to glance back, "we'll drop you off at your place first so you can wash that horrific smell off. And then you'll be coming in. We have work to do."

"I would've come back today, I swear," Kendall said because the apology was still an unformed, cloudy mirage in his head and he couldn't seem to wring solid, concrete words from it.

"Of course you would have," James said in a clipped tone.

Kendall knew he was lying.

XxX

True to his word, Kendall was dropped off at his apartment.

He showered, letting the hot water beat him into defeat. As he got ready, his face frosted in the foggy mirror, he told himself that he could be a professional. He'd been a complete professional every single day of his career until he'd come to Five Points. Letting fear get the best of him was stupid.

By the time he'd walked to the office, his head was a little clearer and he'd discovered a deep-seated determination not to let James push any more of his buttons.

He'd just settled in with his laptop to check the email he'd missed when James popped his head around the corner of his cubicle.

"Marketing meeting in the conference room, you're already five minutes late," was all he said in a clipped, straightforward tone.

Personally, Kendall thought every meeting they'd had so far could be categorized as a 'marketing meeting,' but James just tilted his head, _daring _Kendall to challenge him. And Kendall wasn't stupid. If Dak knew about the email, he'd already be fired.

Dak might be more touchy-feely now, but he was still the same man who had run Hansen's with a velvet-covered iron fist and the expectation that everyone brought their A-game every single day. Which meant that James hadn't told him about the email.

Kendall didn't like blackmail, whether it was inferred or directly stated, but he couldn't exactly be pissed because he'd handed it to James on a silver platter.

"Fine," Kendall ground out before picking up his laptop to follow James.

When James opened the door to the conference room, he was a little shocked to find that it was full. Lots of employees, including Dak, were sitting around the table. He and James were able to grab two of the last free seats right before it started.

What followed was the most endlessly boring bunch of bullshit that Kendall had ever sat through. There were multiple presenters, and everybody had slide decks with more charts and keywords and strategies than Kendall ever wanted to see.

His head was still pounding behind his eyes and he'd barely gotten any sleep, but every time he even briefly considered closing his eyes, he saw Dak sitting across the table, taking attentive notes and asking questions that seemed to be relevant.

Plus, there was James beside him, no doubt ready to pick up on any wavering from Kendall.

It was like being bored to death.

When the torture was finally over, Dak stopped by and clapped Kendall on the shoulder.

"I couldn't believe it when James said you'd expressed interest in coming to one of these. I only come because I don't have a choice. But I guess you really meant it when you said you wanted to reach the people."

Kendall could only nod mutely. Miserably. In acute pain and wishing he could inflict even a _tiny_ bit of it on the man next to him.

He couldn't. Never mind his own vow to stay professional, he knew if he took even the tiniest step out of line, James would bat him right back with the email.

Grinding his teeth together, Kendall forced himself to smile. "Working in the kitchens doesn't give me many opportunities like this," he said, which was all true. And he'd been one hundred percent okay with that situation.

"I'm impressed," Dak said, and he sounded it too, which was even worse. Normally Kendall craved approbation from his bosses, but not like this. Not for something he basically loathed.

Kendall didn't have to look over at James to see the smug smile on his face as Dak departed.

"Lunch?" Kendall asked, aware of how desperate he sounded. He didn't really care about food yet, but coffee was going to be a necessity.

"We have another meeting."

"I didn't really have to come to this one," Kendall said slowly as they walked towards one of the smaller meeting rooms, "did I?"

James just shrugged. "I thought it would be educational."

"If you understand what they're saying, it probably would have been," Kendall grumbled. It was clear that James wasn't going to trip up and admit that the meeting had been clear punishment for the email-or maybe for the kiss-or that he was essentially blackmailing Kendall into compliance.

James was too smart for that, which Kendall _sort of _admired and _definitely _hated.

"So, what's this meeting about?" Kendall asked, slumping into a chair.

"We only have a few short weeks to plan your first slate of episodes before we have to film," James said, and that hard, determined edge to his voice was back. "We need a plan of attack. _Now_."

"Okay, tell me what you think Joan of Arc Julia Child would do," Kendall said because he might as well hear the worst of it, all completely spelled out.

James flipped open a folder.

"I'm glad you finally asked." Even his statement was pointed at the end like he was insinuating Kendall should have asked that right away. And frankly, Kendall probably should have. Except it wasn't entirely Kendall's fault because he'd never really done this before. As his producer, wasn't it James' job to guide him?

Kendall watched James as he gathered papers and tried to bury the seething resentment that somehow James had wanted him to fail. But that didn't make any sense either, because hadn't James picked him? Not Dak?

Kendall didn't know what to think anymore. So he decided that if he'd asked the question, he might as well listen.

"Joan of Arc Julia Child, as you put it, is essentially a pastry course built into the first season. Each episode is a dessert that showcases a particular type of technique, and we work forward from there. The idea is to build on knowledge, but I'd like it to be accessible to anyone, at the same time."

Kendall ran a hand through his hair. "That's what I've been trying to tell you, it _can't _be accessible to just anyone."

"Why not?" James retorted. "Anyone who can read can follow a recipe."

"It's not all about following a recipe." Kendall countered. "Or else we'd just be publishing recipes online and not filming videos. There's technique that you can't teach through words."

"Then _teach,_" James challenged, hazel eyes spiking with temper across the table. "Or...is that something you aren't capable of?"

"What I'm trying to fucking tell you is that I don't care about people learning how to bake," Kendall said, all too aware that even though he was trying to listen, trying to understand, he was beginning to lose control over his temper. It was funny, even Jett had never provoked it the way James did. Until this job, Kendall would have insisted he didn't have a real temper.

"Then what do you want to do?" James questioned, still even and calm.

"I want to bake what I want to bake."

"Why can't we do both? It's not that big of a restriction, showcasing one technique each episode. And it's not like you didn't have restrictions at Terroir."

"Yeah, well there's a reason I'm not working there anymore," Kendall mumbled.

"So, if I asked you what you wanted, you'd tell me you want to make videos that don't do anything except look pretty and impressive. Bolster your ego, so to speak."

Kendall had never thought of it that way before, but put the way James did, he certainly sounded like a petty egomaniac. It wasn't an attractive look, and they both knew it.

They also both knew James was going to win this round.

And really, Kendall justified to himself, James was sort of right. All things considered, there _was_ a small restriction on each episode, but there wasn't any reason he couldn't go a little wild and crazy. And maybe the wilder and crazier he went, he might pay back James for painting him into this corner.

"No," Kendall said. "That's not really me." He could tell from James' face that he was definitely not convinced of that. "We'll try it your way."

It didn't sting as much as he'd expected, saying those words, but James' smug face still needed something-a punch maybe? But that wasn't right either, Kendall thought as James started taking notes. No, something else, something to surprise him.

It shouldn't have surprised him when the thought of kissing James popped into his head. James already had an ass he admired-which, unfortunately, they were both aware of now-but nothing would probably drive Mr. Bow Ties up the creek more than something messy and complicated, which was what all sexual relationships were, as far as Kendall was concerned.

_Definitely worth considering_, Kendall thought.

XxX

Kendall landed on the couch with a heavy oof. It had been an extremely long day and he was exhausted but he still dragged out his phone from his back pocket. He felt a pulse of shame when he noticed that he hadn't texted Katie since telling her with many emojis and exclamations that he was moving to LA. Of course, she hadn't texted or called him either, but she was in college. He'd never been but he had a feeling you were so tired when you finally hit your bed, regular correspondence was basically impossible.

His fingers hesitated over the keys. Finally, he typed out a quick, _you free to talk? _and sent it.

He was so tired, it was a genuine worry that he might fall asleep before she replied, but instead, the phone rang almost immediately, jerking him awake.

"Hey, big bro," Katie greeted on the other end of the phone. Kendall switched it over to speaker and laid the phone on his chest. "Long time no talk."

"How is your philosophy class? Did it improve at all?"

She laughed, and he couldn't believe how much better he felt, just hearing her voice and her laugh. Something tight in his chest loosened.

"No, not really." She paused. "What's up?"

Kendall felt a little bad about not talking to her for three weeks and then dumping his horrible situation on her, asking for her advice, but he couldn't go to Jett or Carlos since they were currently working. He could have probably went to Logan since he didn't have to go in for another hour or two, but in the heat of the moment, it had felt like Katie was the only person he could go to.

"I think I fucked up, sis."

"Do you think it was a mistake to move to LA?" She asked quietly.

"No. Yes. I don't know. That's not exactly it. LA was the right choice, I don't think I shouldn't have come. But everything after I showed up...that's the problem."

She sighed, sounding like she'd been around the block a hundred times and knew the score. "Who is he?"

"How do you know it's a he?" Kendall gaped. "It could be the job. It could be my boss."

"No. Definitely not. Because _one_, you're ridiculously good at your job-crazy intimidating good, if I'm being honest-so there's no way it's the job. _Two_, you already told me your boss was Dak Zevon, and he didn't ever strike me as an asshole you couldn't get along with. I mean, you get along with _Jett _of all people."

Kendall regretted introducing his sister to Jett for so many reasons.

"Did Jett tell you about his crush on Dak? Is that how you know about him?"

Kendall could feel her disapproval radiating through the phone line. Even her silence could say a hundred words. He'd always envied that about her. He knew he tended to be both too open and not open enough; charming but opaque.

"Don't you remember when he was on Kitchen Wars?" Katie asked, referring to a reality TV show that Kendall vaguely remembered and definitely hadn't watched. The name probably only sounded familiar because Jett had likely DVRed it and then had refused to delete it. Especially if Dak had starred in it.

"No?"

"Right," Katie said with amusement. "I always forget that it's Jett who has a crush on Dak, not you."

"Thankfully not. Considering he's now my boss," Kendall retorted. He really hoped he had distracted her from the topic at hand-the mysterious _he _she had already correctly identified-by the topic change. He'd initially wanted to ask her advice, but now that he was talking to her, he realized he didn't know what he would even ask her. Besides, talking to her had already made him feel better, like none of this was truly permanently fucked, and he could still salvage it.

He loved his little sister a whole damn lot.

"So, who is he?" She persisted, and Kendall groaned out loud.

"You're not very good at subtle," Katie pointed out with a laugh. "I can always see you changing the subject from a mile away. So who is he?"

"He's my producer," Kendall reluctantly admitted.

"And?"

"And I was stupid." Kendall didn't really want to detail every way he'd messed up with James, but knowing Katie, she'd drag it out of him.

"Big bro," Katie said patiently, "you're stupid about a hundred times a day. Did you hit on him? You hit on him, didn't you? Like five seconds after meeting him."

He couldn't exactly blame Katie for coming to that conclusion, because if he hadn't been so on edge when arriving at Five Points, he probably would have taken one look at James and done exactly that. But he'd been scared and worried and apprehensive, and so afraid it would all show, that he'd done the exact opposite.

"Not exactly," Kendall hedged. "I sort of insulted him. And then _kept _insulting him."

He could tell Katie was speechless because there was a long, loaded silence.

"Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Katie finally asked.

"He was afraid and out of his depth and acted like an idiot."

"Then he should _apologize_," Katie reprimanded, sounding so much like their mom, Kendall had to do a double-take.

"Yeah, he didn't do that."

"So, he should start there. And then he should definitely stop referring to himself in the third person because that makes him sound weirder than he already is."

"Noted." Kendall said with a laugh. He definitely felt lighter. He wasn't sure how he could even begin to apologize to James for what he'd said, but he knew Katie's advice was sound. It was Katie. She was pretty much never wrong.

"Good."

"How is that guy in your philosophy class?" Kendall asked.

Katie groaned. Kendall couldn't help but think that the sound they had both made when confronted with their nemeses-Kendall with James, and Katie with Philosophy Class Guy-were eerily similar.

That could be because they were related, or it could be for an entirely different reason.

"Believe me, I feel you," Kendall said.

"How can you want to kiss someone and kill them all in the same breath?"

"I really don't know. When I figure it out, I'll get back to you." He paused. "And no kissing! I like to think of you as one of those nuns in the Sound of Music."

He could hear the force of Katie's eye roll over the phone.

"You're an idiot," She said, but there was so much love in her voice, he squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden wave of emotion.

"I miss you, sis," He said. "We need to figure out a way to hang out. Soon."

"Soon," She promised. "But I've got a midterm to study for, so I'd better go."

"Good luck on your test."

"Thank you." She hesitated. "And, Kendall?"

"Yeah?"

"Just fucking apologize."

Kendall knew it would be so much smarter to just listen to his sister, but he already knew he wouldn't. The only way intended to apologize, after the way James had manipulated and blackmailed him today, would be if he could leverage it as a way to control the producer.

After all, he'd never admitted to being a smart man, only a driven, determined one.

* * *

**Done! So, it looks like the war between Kendall and James continues to wage on. :P**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed! I loved hearing your thoughts on the previous chapter. You all seemed in agreement that Kendall messed up royally. :P Next chapter, you'll get more of James' perspective on things.**

**Until then! :D**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hello again everyone! A new chapter is here! :D**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, Side1ways, Guest, XxxAnimaniacxxX, RainbowDiamonds, and annabellex2 for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

As far as James was concerned, Kendall's agreement to do things his way was just a little too easy.

Sure, he'd strong-armed him, half-drunk and one hundred percent nasty-smelling, like an orchard gone bad, into Mike O'Connor's jet, then dragged him to the marketing meeting Dak regularly said was the worst day of his week, all while walking a delicate line between outright and only inferred blackmail.

And sure, he'd had to wake up at six this morning after a mostly sleepless night, tossing and turning and agonizing over what Kendall had meant by kissing him. And then he'd had to read the email Kendall had clearly gotten wasted and then written, probably because he'd kissed him and didn't know what to do about it. But in between the not-very-imaginative and poorly written insults had been some insights into both Kendall the Chef and Kendall the Man.

After all, was something really insulting when it started with the playground taunt of "I really hate your face"?

Okay, it was, but James wasn't about to admit that. He also wasn't going to admit to the sting he felt at being called a backstabber or how insulting it was just how little Kendall thought of him.

Besides, insulting or not, James would have used the material the same way. The sick look on Kendall's face this morning hadn't just been the bad liquor talking. He'd clearly been overwrought with guilt and confused as hell.

Guilt, James thought with satisfaction as he swept into the Five Points kitchens the next morning, was the best fucking motivator in the whole world. Better than love or revenge or whatever petty shit those comic book villains were always preaching about.

They could keep their world domination via childhood insecurity. James was going to take guilt and shame right to the bank.

Stephanie, the kitchen manager, called out good morning from her spot on the other side of the gigantic space where she was probably writing up next week's kitchen schedule. Even if she hadn't been, James still would have smiled big and waved. As it was, he smiled extra big because it was a fucking fantastic morning.

His espresso had been the perfect blend of hot milk and bitter, rich coffee and he'd slept like a baby the night before. But most importantly, he'd finally fixed his problem.

"Hey."

James looked up to see his fixed problem staring at him inscrutably.

"You look better," James said judiciously. Now that Kendall was no longer a thorn in his side, James was fine with being civil. Besides, Kendall could hardly look worse than he'd looked yesterday, so his statement also had the bonus ring of truth.

"Actual sleep and no booze works wonders," Kendall pointed out.

There had been a tiny worried part of James that had been concerned that after a good night's sleep, Kendall might recant his agreement of the day before. Or even worse, decide he wanted to talk about the two major events of the last forty-eight hours. But when Kendall stayed silent, James forged on with his plan.

"I'm going to suggest that we use the peanut butter dark chocolate recipe as our first episode of the series. It's a strong introduction to your point of view as a chef-your sort of high-end, low-end combo that you used with the strawberry raspberry tarts that went viral-and it's a great introduction to basic concepts of baking, like creaming together butter and sugar and sifting dry ingredients."

Kendall looked grudgingly impressed. "That's not a bad idea."

James couldn't quite help the chiding look he shot in Kendall's direction. He had a problem being a little smug after he knew he'd won, and this morning was no exception.

"If you'd give me half a chance, you'd learn I have more than a few of those."

"I told you yesterday I'd listen," Kendall said, a grumpy expression crossing his face. But unlike the inscrutable, lofty frowns of earlier this week, this one was almost adorable. Like a pissed-off cat.

"We talked yesterday about you coming up with a list of higher concepts you thought would come across good on video."

Kendall nodded before pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his jeans pocket and sliding it across the counter. It was a sunny morning and the tall windows in the kitchen were all open, lightening his eyes and making them tougher for James to read. But if he had to guess, Kendall looked the way James felt: smug.

Scanning the list, James had to admit that Kendall had done a really good job. Which didn't surprise him all that much, because he'd personally selected Kendall for a reason. They'd gotten off to a bit of a rocky start, but there was no reason everything couldn't go smoothly from now on.

"This is really good," James said.

"Don't sound so surprised."

James glanced up, surprised at the hard, defensive edge to Kendall's voice.

"Look, I know I haven't shown it here, but I'm a professional," Kendall said and there it was again-the little thread of shame for the way he'd behaved earlier.

James couldn't have planned it better if he'd orchestrated the whole damn thing. He wanted to break into a song and dance of victory.

"Of course you are," Okay, if he sounded a little patronizing, then it was payback for, _"I really hate your face."_

"Which of these do you think would be good for the next episode in the series?" James continued.

"They're actually in order-or the order I'd suggest they be in," Kendall said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Thoughtful," James said approvingly. "Next up is chocolate croissants?"

Kendall nodded. "And even better, last night I thought of an even better way we can learn to cooperate."

Later, James would come to think of this moment as the one where he stumbled and fell over his own ego.

"You're teaching me all about marketing," Kendall said oh-so-innocently-so innocently that James should have realized what was coming, but he was too busy celebrating such an easy win. He should have known that anything too easy to believe was just that-_too damn easy. _"And so I thought I could teach you how to bake. Starting with these recipes. You want me to teach an average person, so I figure," Kendall said, flashing another one of those charming smiles that made the housewives across America fall in love with him, "you're about as average as it gets."

XxX

James didn't know whether to be pissed off or very reluctantly admiring over the way he'd just been outmaneuvered. It was almost a masterstroke of genius, and from the lack of smugness emanating from Mr. Ego, it was hard to tell if he even realized he'd struck gold.

As far as James was concerned, that was the worst part of all. If you were going to meet James on a field of victory and snatch it out from under him, then you'd better be damn aware you'd done it.

"Average?" James asked, definitely conscious of how his voice crept up at the end of the word.

"If you want me to teach anyone, then I sure as hell better be able to teach _you_," Kendall said. And suddenly, there was just a flash of the egotistical chef James had come to know.

James had never failed at anything in his life. He definitely wasn't about to start now.

"Sure," He said breezily. "I'm sure you can teach me."

James had fully expected another kitchen session observing Kendall and taking notes. He hadn't anticipated touching anything-unless it riled Kendall up again-and so he'd worn one of his favorite bow ties, a beautiful summer-blue plaid.

The last thing he expected was Kendall to take a few steps closer and reach up, resting one of those slim, capable hands on his shoulder, then edge towards his throat. James might have worried Kendall was finally going to strangle him, except those fingers were hesitant but sure of their destination, which was his bow tie.

"This needs to go," Kendall said, and James wasn't sure he imagined it, but his voice seemed lower, almost gravelly. Earthy. James might have imagined it was sexual, be he couldn't quite reconcile the Kendall who wrote, "I really hate your face," and had kissed him like he was attacking him, to someone who might be sexually interested in him. It just didn't compute.

And yet here Kendall was, fingers capably and nimbly undoing his bow tie and gracefully tugging it out of his collar. He still couldn't seem to find words-maybe that was the sheer shock of Kendall choosing to touch him, maybe it was that his actions fulfilled so much of what James had daydreamed about before they'd ever met-and he stood in silence as Kendall thumbed open one collar button and the next, with efficient movements.

If James hadn't had sexual fantasies about Kendall's hands before now, he definitely was going to now.

Kendall Knight was undressing him.

It seemed too unreal to be actually happening, but James could feel the floor under his feet, and the brush of Kendall's breath on the skin he'd exposed.

"There," Kendall said softly, and James swore his voice wobbled for a second. "Much better."

"I thought it was the khakis you didn't like." James knew only the most shocking event would have forced him to break and refer to the email and the things Kendall had said to him. He figured his slip was pretty justified, considering what had just happened.

"They're distracting," Kendall said, but instead of continuing down that line of thought, he turned away and headed towards the supply pantry, leaving James confused and sort of bereft. He wondered if Kendall kissed him again, would it still be so angry.

He didn't think it would be.

When Kendall returned, he was carrying an apron, which he handed to James.

"You don't wear one of these," James said skeptically. It turned out he was far more interested in Kendall undressing him than encouraging him to put more clothes on. And that was definitely a problem.

Kendall gestured to his worn t-shirt and jeans.

"Besides," he added, "I'm the professional, remember? I'm teaching you."

James shouldn't have found anything endearing about Kendall bringing up one of their main conflicts, but there was a self-conscious, almost wry, edge to his voice that made it obvious how embarrassed he was about the whole thing.

And he _should _be embarrassed about that email, James thought as he plucked the apron from Kendall's hand with barely another glance.

"If it's a requirement, I'll be happy to wear it."

He only looked down after he'd tied it around his waist.

"W-wait," He stuttered, "this isn't...this didn't come from the kitchen."

"Kiss the Cook" was emblazoned across the front in bright red letters. Kendall only grinned, the curve of his bottom lip all the evidence James needed that he was far too pleased with himself.

It occurred to James then that while he'd come in today, prepared to deal and to compromise, Kendall had made some plans of his own. Teaching James to cook wasn't a spontaneous idea he'd just come up with. He'd planned for this to happen, even to the extent of buying and bringing this ugly apron for James to wear.

"Looks good," was all Kendall said before he turned away, but that was enough. James had already seen the amusement in his green eyes, and he had to force down the answering blush.

"Thank you," James said stiffly.

He would've had to be dead to not be affected by some of the things Kendall said and did. The reluctant attraction he felt had come through loud and strong, in between all the silly insults and the angry kiss. But James already knew it would be dangerous to let Kendall kiss him again. Maybe _too_ dangerous, especially when Kendall had just proved that he was perfectly capable of arranging his own manipulative plans. James would never know if anything that developed between them was real or if it was just Kendall trying to gain the upper hand in their power struggle.

That was why it couldn't happen at all.

James picked up the paper Kendall had scribbled the show ideas on and pointed at the first line. He needed to remind both of them that this was a professional-not personal-relationship.

"This is what we're doing today?" He hesitated, already thinking of how he'd stumble over the French. "Pain au chocolat?"

"Oui, pain au chocolat," Kendall answered absently, absorbed as he arranged the ingredients he'd just fetched from the pantry on a rolling cart.

Unlike James, French rolled off Kendall's tongue naturally. James was reminded that one of the bullet points on his resume was several years studying and working in Paris at one of the great patisseries there.

James had never been to Europe. His childhood had definitely never afforded him a chance to travel, and he'd spent his entire adult life clawing his way up by his fingernails. There had never been time or money to indulge any of his fantasies.

Hearing Kendall speak such careless and perfect French was another reminder of how different they were, and how Kendall could never find out just how different.

"Do you speak fluently?" James asked before he could swallow the question back. Like he needed any more vivid dreams of those long, pliant fingers running across his skin, hypnotic murmurs of French in his ear.

"Not as much as I should," Kendall admitted. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, like he knew what James was thinking-and he couldn't, James knew that, but there was still a fearful thrill that he might still figure it out. "Everyone kept speaking English."

"Well that was a waste."

"I'm assuming you don't speak French?"

Obviously James didn't. The way he'd butchered the pronunciation of the recipe name would have given that away instantly. He spoke a little Spanish, because you'd have to be painfully isolated not to pick up at least a little, and also because he'd taken the language courses required by his university.

"It's a goal of mine to learn another language," James admitted.

Kendall rolled his eyes. "Of course it is."

James was instantly reminded of all those years of being made fun of because he'd had the nerve to excel in school because he'd had the nerve to want _better _for himself. Why wasn't that cool? Why did Kendall, who'd certainly done some excelling of his own, find that lame?

But James had long learned there was no point in asking those questions. He'd do whatever he believed he needed to do, damn everyone else. He pushed the hurt away because there was no point in wondering why Kendall would judge him for it, too.

"What is pain au chocolat?" He asked, carefully attempting to copy Kendall's effortless accent.

"Chocolate croissants," Kendall said. "And they're important because learning how to make pastry dough is vital to French baking. Also because they're delicious _and _impressive."

James was definitely impressed but he kept his lips pressed tightly together because he wasn't about to tell Kendall that.

"We begin," Kendall continued, "by putting the basic dough together." He gestured to a gigantic glass bowl that he'd placed on the counter.

James walked over to the bowl. He was only going to follow instructions and mix some stuff together in a bowl. How hard could this really be?

"I don't suppose you have this recipe written down yet?"

Kendall smiled and leaned against the counter, a little closer than James was comfortable with, his green eyes the warmest they'd been since he'd arrived at Five Points. He was a long, lean temptation and James needed him a little further away. A little more unattainable.

"I'll walk you through it," Kendall promised. "Flour first." He pointed to a big metal bin.

James tugged it over to the bowl and opened the latch. "How much?"

"Four cups." Kendall pointed to a variety of measuring cups and spoons that he'd laid out at the workstation.

Picking up the cup measure, James tried not to be self-conscious as Kendall watched him intently measure out four cups of the flour and dump it into the bowl.

"No," was all Kendall said, picking up the bowl and dumping all the flour back in the container. "There's a way to measure flour correctly when baking." He leaned over and suddenly was right in James' personal bubble, forearm brushing against his chest and plucked the measuring cup from his hand. Despite fighting his attraction, James knew he was breathing heavier, while Kendall, who was just as close, didn't seem affected at all. James didn't know whether to remind himself of what Kendall had said in the email or try to forget it completely and believe the charade Kendall was playing at.

"We fluff up the flour first," Kendall said, voice casual but precise as he took the metal cup in his hand and with a few flicks of his wrist, churned up the flour. "We want it light but uniform. Flour can clump together, making the measurement imprecise."

Then he handed the cup back to James. Flour sifted gently over his fingers as he dipped his hand into the container to replicated Kendall's movements.

"Now," Kendall said, snagging James' wrist, his fingers making a loose bracelet around it, "you dip the cup in and level it off with your other hand."

Flour was coating both their hands now, specks sifting down across the counter as Kendall guided James' movements. Finally, there were four new cups of flour in the bowl. The amount seemed very similar to James, but Kendall was the expert, and if he said this was how flour should be measured, then he'd do it.

"Half cup of cold water," Kendall said, releasing his wrist gently, more flour sifting to the counter, to the floor, even onto Kendall's jeans. He seemed unconcerned. James hadn't thought he'd ever be grateful for the apron, but he sort of was.

James sorted through the selection of measuring cups, and he'd just found the right one when Kendall's voice stopped him again.

"Nope," He said. "Those are just for dry ingredients." He gestured to the nestled glass measuring cups on the side. "_These _are for wet ingredients, like water."

Not about to let Kendall stop him again, James slowly measured water from the faucet into the cup, ducking down so his eyes could double-check that the liquid had rested exactly at the little red line.

Kendall gave an approving little nod as he poured the water into the flour.

"Same amount of milk," he said, and James dutifully measured that, too.

"Wait," he said as he was pouring the milk in, "didn't you make all sorts of excuses when I asked you the other day about measuring? You didn't measure anything in those cookies."

"You've got to learn the rules to break them," Kendall said a little smugly.

James was tempted to tell him he was an asshole, but that wasn't exactly in the spirit of cooperation and compromise they were apparently working on now. Plus, if he'd actually said it, it probably would have come out disgruntled but endeared, like he found Kendall's insistence on teaching James how to measure kind of adorable.

And it wasn't. Not even a little bit. His heart just hadn't gotten the memo from his brain yet.

He dutifully measured out the sugar, and then the salt, per Kendall's specific instructions, and then poured out the packet of yeast into the bowl.

"Last ingredient," Kendall said, pushing a small glass bowl filled with butter. "This is really important-more important than measuring things right. Some recipes call for room temperature butter. Others call for cold butter. You need to make sure you follow the instructions. That can make or break a recipe."

"Like I have a recipe I'm actually following," James grumbled.

Four days ago, Kendall probably would have shot something grumpy and ill-tempered right back, but this time his smile was soft as butter.

"You're following _my _recipe," He said, and his voice edged just enough on proprietary that despite all his good intentions, James went hot all over. It felt like he'd just been blasted by the heat from an open oven, but there wasn't one. Only Kendall.

How had James ever thought he was cold and unfriendly? The man could melt chocolate at a hundred paces. James wanted to believe it had something to do with their unspoken attraction, but he knew better. It didn't have anything to do with him. Not really. It was all about who was going to be in control, and Kendall just wanted it that bad.

Badly enough to bother charming James, when, if Kendall had been paying any attention at all, James had been charmed-despite his best intentions-from day one. From the very first moment he'd watched a Pastry by Kendall episode, if he was being painfully honest.

"Well, what does _your _recipe say?" It was stupid to flirt back, but Kendall's charm made it too easy.

"Soft," Kendall murmured, easing closer, and _God_, yes, that was his finger, brushing casually yet purposefully against James' arm. He was probably touching more flour than skin, but even that teasing touch was enough to shoot lightning up his nerves.

It nearly killed him, but James took a step away, disguising his need to put some breathing room in between him and the gorgeous man next to him by grabbing a thin flexible spatula from the pile of equipment Kendall had set out earlier.

"Just plop it in?" James asked, and even he was impressed by how calm and cool he sounded when the reality was so much different.

Kendall still smiled though, like he knew the truth, and James hiding it only added an extra edge of anticipation.

"Yep, right in the bowl. And then we get to the fun part."

James was almost afraid to ask what the fun part was. But he did because he needed to have some kind of plan of how to resist Kendall going forward.

"What's that?"

"You mix it up," Kendall eyed the spatula in James' hand. "And not with that."

"With my hands?" James gaped. "Isn't that unsanitary?"

"Not if you wash them first."

James did, spending a lot of time unnecessarily scrubbing, like a dose of soap and water could extinguish the fire that Kendall kept trying to start.

"You're trying to clean them, not take the skin off," Kendall said, leaning over the sink, eyes bright with amusement. James kept telling himself that Kendall couldn't read his mind or understand why he was doing anything, but it was getting harder to believe it.

"Just want to make sure they're clean of laptop cooties before I shove them in the bowl," James quipped before reaching for the paper towels next to the sink.

"But laptop cooties are my favorite," Kendall said, his lips forming a crooked, lopsided smile and his eyes crinkling.

This was the most blatant lie Kendall had told him yet, and it had the opposite effect than he'd probably anticipated. Instead of enchanted, James felt cold and clammy, like he'd just sobered up.

No matter how much he liked Kendall-and desperately wanted Kendall to like him back-the truth was Kendall was only trying to charm him so he could have the upper hand. Kendall thought the stuff James did with his laptop was pointless and a waste of time.

"How should I mix this?" This time it was easy for James to drag his attention back to the task. He should have been happier, but he wasn't.

Kendall's expression was perplexed. "Mix...it?"

"Never mind," James huffed. "I'll figure it out." He stuck his hands in and started swirling the ingredients together. Way too quickly his fingers were caked with the sticky flour mixture.

"Wait," Kendall said and James hesitated, still fingers deep in the gluey mass, "I think...I think maybe we need to approach this differently."

James hoped the glare he shot the other man said pointedly that he had _tried _to ask ahead of time, and Kendall hadn't understood.

"I know, I know," Kendall murmured as he approached James, a little like he was trying to calm an upset dog, "it'll be fine. We'll figure it out."

"I don't think so," James muttered. "I think we're pretty fucked." His voice wobbled on the last word as Kendall reached in and plucked out one of James' hands.

Whenever Kendall was in the kitchen, his own hands were always quick and efficient-certain. Now, he took his time, carefully and thoroughly cleaning off the caked-on mass of sticky flour off each finger.

It couldn't be impersonal, because there was so much touching-_way_ too much touching for James' peace of mind-but it felt even more intimate with Kendall bent over his fingers, so meticulously making sure every bit of the "dough" was off, his eyes intense as he concentrated on the task.

"I'm sure...I'm sure I could manage," James stuttered helplessly. He was caught. Literally and metaphorically.

"Almost done," Kendall said, his soft voice still roughly hypnotic, pinning James in place even further. He could have moved. He could have protested-he _should _have protested. But the truth was he didn't want to stop touching Kendall, even if it didn't mean what he wanted it to.

"Why don't we start over?" James asked. "We've got lots of ingredients."

"Because I was too slow and you were too fast? There's no reason to. We can salvage this." Kendall glanced up, his green eyes even brighter in the light, and it was like he could see right through James and all his token protests. Like he meant something else by his words. Like maybe he was admitting he'd been too slow out of the gate and was just now catching up.

"There," He finally said, releasing the second hand. The sticky mass was mostly gone, but James knew he needed to wash them off still. And then they needed to do whatever Kendall came up with to salvage the half-mixed ingredients.

But he didn't move, and neither did Kendall, even though their hips had somehow aligned. If they took a step closer, more than just their fingers would touch. James had a sudden flash of memory: Kendall crowding him close against the wall when they'd argued only a few days ago. Then, he'd been hot with anger and the indignity of having Kendall push him around. Now, the anger had faded and all that remained was an indelible memory of Kendall's body against his. And the memory was filled with a whole different kind of heat.

It was annoying that even when Kendall was an ass, James still somehow found him irresistible. James figured that must be a commentary on his poor taste in men. Nice men didn't register, it was only when someone went out of their way to be a dick that he paid attention.

"I didn't mean it," Kendall murmured, and that was the worst of all, because that was his doughy fingers brushing his cheek, and if he leaned in another few inches, they might be kissing.

The very last thing on earth that James wanted to discuss was the email, and he definitely didn't want it to be used against him, especially when it was only fair and equitable that James get to use it against Kendall.

After all, it hadn't been James who'd up and run away and then gotten drunk and written a nearly incoherent email filled with vague insults and even vaguer compliments.

The good news was that it was the push James needed to pull away and put some space between them. He turned towards the sink and told himself that he imagined Kendall's disappointed face.

"Tell me," James said briskly, scrubbing with more cold water, "how do we fix it?"

"I don't know, I'm trying," Kendall said, and there was too much raw honesty in his voice.

James looked up and his own was sharp in response. "I meant the dough."

"Oh. The dough. Right."

James ignored how sulky Kendall sounded. Was that all he thought he needed to do to fix things between them? Some charming lines and some vague flirting? And a few moments where he considered kissing James again?

Yeah, _no_. Kendall had made James' life hell since he'd showed up at Five Points, and then he'd gone out of his way to insult him.

Finishing up with his hands, James wet a paper towel and scrubbed at his face, sure that Kendall's fingers had left some traces of flour even though they'd only brushed his skin for a split second. It had been long enough.

When James returned to the workspace, Kendall was staring into the bowl like it held all the mysteries of the universe.

"I think if we mix with a spatula to get the mixture into a rough dough then we can knead it by hand."

James nodded before picking up the spatula and gently, carefully mixing the dough until it came together in a ball. He wasn't taking any more chances for Kendall to ingratiate himself. Mistakes were an opportunity for Kendall, and James wasn't giving him any additional openings.

"That's good," Kendall said. The murmured intimacy in his voice had lessened somewhat, and James _was _glad. It was exhausting to fight the attraction all the time. Sometimes he just wanted to get some stuff done without all the distraction.

Shoving his hands back into the dough, James copied Kendall's demonstrated kneading techniques until Kendall pronounced it ready, and got another bowl out to set the dough into. It went into the freezer to chill.

"What now?" James asked.

"Have you ever eaten a croissant?"

"Of course I have," James tapped a foot impatiently. It felt like they'd wasted hours, even though it had only barely been one, if the clock on the far side of the room wasn't lying to him.

"Then you know about the flaky layers it has. We need to create that, and to do that, we use a sheet of cold butter, folded in between layers of dough. When the croissants bake, the butter evaporates and creates pockets of air in the dough."

"Which makes it flaky." This baking thing, James thought, was a lot more complicated than he'd realized. He re-thought what Kendall had said. "Wait, a _sheet _of butter?"

Kendall shrugged at James' astonishment and pulled over a single sheet of waxed paper, on which was spread a thick, even layer of butter.

"I came in early and made this, and chilled it," He said. "It needs to be very cold, or else it'll all just melt into the dough. It's like pie dough."

When James continued to look at him blankly, Kendall continued.

"You know, like the pies you bake on Thanksgiving? You need cold fat mixed into the dough to prevent it from being tough."

James knew what Kendall was getting at, and while he no intention of sharing just how far his Thanksgivings had been from family pie-baking, he couldn't exactly pretend like he knew what Kendall was talking about.

"We always had store-bought pie," James said, which was only partially a lie. He remembered years when he'd been fortunate and lucky enough to get a piece of store-bought pie. Homemade pies were a figment of his imagination, a dream that he'd never gotten to share.

"It's the same concept," Kendall said. "The water in the butter or the lard evaporates in the heat of the oven, leaving the dough pocketed and airy. Here," He handed a rolling pin to James, "let's roll out the butter a little while the dough finishes chilling."

James felt like he did a really good job getting the butter perfectly flat and even, as Kendall grabbed the dough. Finally, his A-plus personality and perfectionist instincts were coming in handy in the kitchen.

The dough was far trickier to roll out. Kendall kept tossing flour on the marble and insisting James flour his hands and the pin so many times that he was sure that flour had made it past the apron to his clothes beneath. Good thing he didn't have any other meetings scheduled for today.

When Kendall felt like he had the dough flattened enough, they worked together to carefully transport the butter from the wax paper to the dough rectangle. This time, Kendall didn't offer to lick the residual butter off his fingers, and James shouldn't have been disappointed, but he was a little.

He certainly thought about offering to return the favor as Kendall lifted one of his hands to his mouth for a surreptitious lick. But that would be insane and James prided himself on his sanity.

"Now, fold the sides of the dough over the butter, like a Christmas present." James held his breath and waited for Kendall to try the same thing he had with the Thanksgiving pies, but he didn't. Which meant nobody else in the office had blabbed and Kendall didn't know yet. A small blessing.

"We're done?" James asked hopefully after the folding was complete.

Kendall shot him an incredulous look. "Not even close. The dough needs to be re-chilled, and then we'll re-fold to make more layers. And then rinse and repeat."

Jaw dropping, James stared incredulously at the man next to him. "How many rinse and repeats exactly?"

"Four? We'll see how it looks at four," Kendall said, piling up bowls together and walking over to the sink. "Pastry isn't a race to see how fast you can get something on a plate."

"Or in my stomach," James grumbled. "Am I allowed to work on non-baking tasks in between layers?"

Kendall waved a hand as he started running hot water in the dishes. "Whatever you want."

Checking email usually didn't fill James with quite so much excitement or anticipation, but he was so ready to get back to the familiar, he nearly forgot to take off his flour-dusted apron before venturing back to his cubicle to retrieve his laptop and his notes.

He could only imagine what the reactions would have been if he hadn't detoured to quickly shed the ugly apron and brush off his clothes. He left the bow tie lying on the counter next to his notepad, and considered it a worthy sacrifice for a little bit of Kendall's trust.

The problem was that Kendall wasn't just after trust. That much was becoming obvious, and even though it was difficult to imagine a world in which James could resist him forever, he still had to make a decision about giving in.

What would it mean? What would it look like? How could he make sure he maintained the upper hand while giving in?

Since he'd turned eighteen, James had been professionally ambitious and personally careful. It was a combination that served him well until now, and he saw no reason to throw caution to the wind. If he was going to let Kendall-and himself, if he was being honest-have their way, he needed to at least do it on his own terms, in his own way.

Laptop in hand, James swung by the restroom and when he was washing up, gave his face only the most perfunctory look over. Even with the briefest glance, his flushed cheeks and bright eyes gave away the story.

Kendall evoked all sorts of emotions in him-frustration and annoyance and impatience, but also something warmer and more indefinable. Something he'd always avoided because he wasn't sure he could control it, and until this moment, that had felt like the scariest risk he could have taken.

This time it felt scarier _not _to take it, like he didn't know what he was missing out on if he let it pass him by.

* * *

**Done! So, it looks like Kames are working together to some...mixed results. :P**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite**** part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! The next chapter of this more than likely won't be up until sometime next week.**

**Until then!**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hello again everyone! Welcome back to Explosive!**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, Guest, Side1ways, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

When James left the kitchen to grab his laptop, Kendall did the dishes and stared at his reflection in the window in front of the sink.

There was no shame in needing to give yourself a pep talk every now and again, but Kendall felt weird that he _didn't _need any sort of pep talk at all. Didn't people usually need to psych themselves up when required to cozy up to someone for mercenary reasons? James Bond never flinched, but James Bond was pretty much considered to be a manwhore with zero conscience.

Kendall didn't like to think he was that sort of person, but when faced with the prospect of using James' attraction to give himself the upper hand all he felt was pure, unadulterated excitement. He knew his own feelings about James were conflicted, but maybe the lack of shame he was feeling meant he wasn't really conflicted at all.

He was pretty sure that meant his heart or his mind or maybe just his dick was engaged on some level.

_And that made it better, didn't it? _His conscience insisted.

It wasn't going to be all for show, on some level it was real for Kendall and that should have been all the green light he needed to close the deal. But instead of prodding him into action, the thought made him hold back when James returned to the kitchen with his laptop and that stupid folder bulging with notes, half of which seemed to be pages torn from the precious notebook that barely ever left his side.

It was the same sky blue as the bowtie he'd removed earlier, and they both sat, innocent but inherently dangerous, on the kitchen counter.

"Do you want to go over some of the stuff I have?" James asked, and unlike his normal, ball-busting certainty, he seemed hesitant. Like maybe he'd reconsidered just how good of an idea so much flirting was.

Kendall's dick certainly thought the flirting had been fantastic, and nothing in the world had been hotter than uptight, always-confident James uncertainly digging his hands in a bowl of dough and looking to Kendall for instructions on how to deal with it. He hadn't realized that was going to be a turn-on, but Kendall wasn't stupid. It added a flair of authenticity to the charm he was trying to pour on, so he used it.

The real question was if it only had the ring of truth or if it _was _the truth. Kendall had claimed, not even a week ago, that he could never be attracted to a man with such a stick up his ass. He was _not _happy to discover that he might have been wrong.

The only explanation was that James, like any decent mold, grew on you after a while.

"What do we need to go over?" Kendall tried to play it casual, but he sounded equal parts apprehensive and excited.

"Oh, tons of stuff. A whole bunch of tiny details, all pointless by themselves, but it all needs to be decided."

"Like?"

Kendall had spent most of his teenage and adult life playing it casual with guys he liked. He didn't do serious relationships, or usually relationships at all. He'd never felt the need because casual came naturally to him.

Casual wasn't coming easy to him now, as he sidled up to where James was perched on a stool, sorting through his folders. He leaned against the counter and railed at himself for looking like some sort of practiced gigolo.

Maybe he _was _James Bond, he'd just never realized it.

James wrinkled his nose. "You don't have to be so tense. I'm not _telling _you the decisions, we're making them together."

"Right, yeah, of course."

_Knight_, he told himself firmly, _you sound like a fucking moron. You can barely string together a sentence. When did he get to you like this?_

Apparently between one breath and the next, in the time it had taken for James to stick his fingers in the dough and then throw Kendall a single beseeching look.

Kendall wasn't James Bond, he was a romance novel heroine straight out of the bodice-ripping 1980s.

"For example," James said, pulling out a single sheet with a bunch of scribbles, "how do you feel about the title?"

James had very straight posture, his spine stiff even when he was sitting on one of those uncomfortable stools. Kendall had never really noticed before, or if he had, he'd marked it off as a character flaw, but now he couldn't stop noticing. And all that ramrod posture made him want to do was tear off James' shirt and see what his back looked like, tan and firm, as he bent over the kitchen counter.

Maybe it was Kendall who was the bodice-ripper.

"The title?" Kendall was having difficulty giving coherent answers, and James was looking at him a little like he was crazy. More than usual, anyway.

"Of your show. Pastry by Kendall?"

"I'm not changing the name."

"I know that," James coaxed, "but what about a subtitle for the first season?"

"What, like 'Pastry by Kendall: Joan of Arc Julia Child Teaches You How to Bake?'"

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

"Like, Pastry by Kendall: Baking 101."

"I...sort of like that," Kendall admitted begrudgingly. There was a part of him that still recoiled in horror, of course. He wasn't Joan of Arc Julia Child; there was a part of him who was always going to be an inherently selfish slave to his own creativity. But the idea of helping others find their potential was growing on him. He'd drink another bottle of faux Kahlua if James found out, though.

"I thought you might." Kendall told himself that James' smug tone of voice was not in any way attractive, but he wasn't very convincing.

"What else?"

"Well, I took the liberty of having the graphics department make some mockups of the new title, just to see what you thought."

James pulled some other brightly colored pages out of his folder and slid them across the workspace.

Kendall knew graphics weren't his strong suit. The logo he'd pulled together last year for Pastry by Kendall was barely acceptable. Which was why it was so easy to get excited about having a professional take a crack at it-or at least that was what he used to justify it to himself.

"These are great," he said, leaning over and carefully examining the options one at a time.

"We can change them, or mix them, or really, anything we can think of. If you don't like any of them, we can even start over," James rambled, and Kendall looked up at him and realized, like a light turning on in a pitch-black room, that he was nervous. Uncertain. Worried that Kendall wouldn't be happy with this initiative.

That was to be expected, because Kendall hadn't been happy with any of his initiatives until now. It was completely Kendall's fault that James worried about his reaction because-and this was a bitter pill to swallow-none of Kendall's reactions had exactly been reassuring.

Obviously, Kendall had seen James before, but at this moment, it was like he was seeing him for the very first time, separate from his own fear-tinted glasses. It felt like he'd just been dunked in very cold water.

"I think some of these could really work," Kendall said.

James smiled, any momentary lapses in self-confidence gone.

"Agreed. This one is my favorite," he said, pulling one particular graphic, the font curling around a series of rainbow-tinted circles that evoked the famous French macarons. A series of episodes that Kendall had done on macarons inspired by famous adult beverages had been very popular; probably his most popular episodes before the strawberry raspberry tarts. He still got people messaging him that they'd never thought of making a strawberry margarita macaron, or one inspired by a White Russian, but that he'd changed the way they saw pastry.

Those comments had probably been part of the problem, Kendall realized. Somehow he'd gotten insufferably smug. There was self-assurance and then there was conceited ignorance. Somehow he'd fallen on the wrong side of that line.

He wanted to apologize-to his credit, not for the first time this week-but that apology, like all his others, still stuck in his throat.

"Did you know that three-quarters of Five Points clamored for Dak to make those macarons?" James asked, almost to himself, like of course Kendall knew.

"Did he?"

The expression on James' face grew conspiratorial, and it shouldn't have been so cute, but it was, undeniably. He leaned close, bending over the drawing between them. "Dak claimed he was too busy, but his boyfriend, Chris, admitted to me that he spent three weeks trying to perfect them, and finally gave up."

Dak Zevon had attempted to duplicate his recipes and failed? Kendall didn't know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. Suddenly it seemed very stupid to not provide people who wanted to duplicate his creations the recipe.

And sure, he'd worked at Terroir, but Kendall had always prided himself on being laid-back and down-to-earth, at least as far as chefs went. He certainly never been as bad as Massimo Bottura, whose ego he'd gotten to witness with a front-row seat.

"Macarons are tricky," Kendall said, which wasn't a lie. They were notoriously difficult to master, and even he sometimes baked batches that just didn't turn out right for reasons he could never pinpoint. "I'll make some this weekend and bring them in." He hesitated, because even though James claimed to not like sweets, maybe he could extend a peace offering in lieu of an actual apology. "Did you want to try a particular flavor?"

James shot him a triumphant look, like he'd just been waiting for Kendall to ask. "The lemon drop, of course."

It felt as easy as breathing to reach forward and trace the bright yellow circle on the logo. "One of my favorites."

"Well, you have _some _taste, apparently."

"Does that mean I should pick that particular logo?" Kendall challenged. But he couldn't help but notice that the sniping they were doing today was far more playful and anticipatory than the sniping of the last two weeks.

It left Kendall breathless and fairly certain that he had almost nothing in common with James Bond after all.

"If you want to. It's ultimately your show. _But_," James said, with more than a little defiance in his own voice, "it's the best choice, by far."

"And probably the idea that you came up with," Kendall finished smoothly.

James looked surprised and annoyed-definitely not as pleased as Kendall had hoped when he'd thrown that line out.

"So much shock that I can do my job properly," he retorted.

"I figured they put the best with the best."

James just rolled his eyes. "And there's the Kendall Knight I've come to know."

"Be nice, or you won't get any macarons. Or any pain au chocolat."

This time James seemed to completely forget that he didn't like sweets because he sighed with exasperation at Kendall's threat.

"What?" James asked defensively, "They're taking an eternity to make, surely I should get _something_ out of all this time and effort."

The beeper on Kendall's phone went off, pinging loudly. "And that's our cue for more time and effort. Time to refold the dough."

This time James didn't make a movement to go grab the dough from the blast chiller, but Kendall let him slide as he scribbled more into his notebook, seemingly absorbed in making notes on the new logo.

It was an easy five minutes of work for Kendall, who got twitchy if he couldn't get his hands on some sort of dough every day.

When he got back to where James was perched, he had opened his laptop and was typing furiously into an email window. Kendall peered over his shoulder.

"Anything good?" he asked.

"Just sending some final notes to the graphic designer," James replied. "I told her to bump the brightness of the colors up a bit, I want something bright and almost candy-colored. And to make the font a bit less fanciful. I feel like the rainbow macarons are enough on that front. She'll probably send a few options for us to look at."

Kendall rubbed his neck and tried not to look sheepish. "I'm...not very good at this part, I should probably default to your expertise."

It was worth admitting that he wasn't very good at something to see James' face light up.

"Of course," he chirped happily. "If you're sure you trust me not to pick something hideous."

"You picked _me_, didn't you?"

James smile evolved into a self-satisfied smirk. "That's right, I did. Besides, in case you were worried, I have fantastic taste."

"What else do you have for me?" Kendall asked.

"Do you watch Dream Team?" James shot the question over as he typed furiously away at his laptop. Kendall knew enough to see he wasn't working on another email. It was hard to bite back the sudden demand that James tell him what he was writing-it wasn't easy to trust James when he'd said all that stuff to Dak-but Kendall knew he needed to.

"Dream Team? The cooking show with that baker from LA and Alex Patton? The one where they spent three-quarters of the time flirting and not actually cooking?"

"That's the one." James didn't look up. "They're gearing up for rehearsals in the next week because the next season of their show starts filming."

"And?"

James looked up, and he didn't look thrilled. "And that means our kitchen time goes way down because they're stars and we're the low men on the totem pole."

"What?!" Kendall demanded. How the hell was he supposed to create recipes and test them and make sure he was able to actually teach people if he didn't have access to the kitchen?

"Believe me, I know. How are you supposed to create recipes if you can't get in the kitchen?"

Kendall stared. "That was fucking creepy. How did you know I was thinking that?"

James shrugged. "You're predictable. Chef, kitchen time-more important than anything else. It's not hard to connect the dots."

"So what are we going to do about it?" Kendall asked, trying to keep his voice level. James might be responsible for some things he didn't like, but he wasn't responsible for this. This was, apparently, out of his control. "I'm assuming, since you're you, you have some sort of plan to deal with this."

"Yes," James said. "Of course I do. Even though I just found out about this."

"Just now?"

James shot him a challenging look over his laptop screen. "Literally thirty seconds ago."

"Oh, so that _was _an email you were typing so angrily."

"No. Well, yes...sort of. I was sending a message to Dak. Getting permission for us to work from home. Or rather, permission to work from _your _home. You've got a good kitchen. Not fantastic, but it should be enough for our needs." James skewered Kendall with another incredibly direct look. "After all, you made that Twinkie at home, didn't you?"

"It was a Ding Dong," Kendall corrected.

"Whatever." James threw up his hands in frustration. "This is my solution. I wish I had something else, but it's what we've got."

"Would begging help?" Kendall asked. "I can be pretty persuasive."

James' incredulous glance didn't instantly puncture his ego. Nope. Not at all.

"Okay, _usually _I can be pretty persuasive. Better?"

James gave a sharp nod. He was still typing like each key he hit was a punch in the face to the people who had demoted their kitchen time to zip, nada, nil.

"No," James finally said with a sigh, fingers finally drifting off the keyboard, "it wouldn't help. Dream Team trumps all."

It wasn't like he hadn't heard of Dream Team-Kendall didn't live under a rock. But he hadn't really paid attention to how popular it was. Or cared, until he was suddenly faced with losing the kitchen time he needed.

"We can work around this, right?" Kendall asked, and he didn't even try to hide the desperate edge to his voice. The part of him that was still terrified and needed any reassurance he could get. He'd never imagined asking for it from James, of all people, but maybe that had been his problem when they'd first met.

"Of course we can. Working from your place, and we'll still get some time in here but it'll be shorter and it'll be either early or late."

The one thing Kendall felt confident about was that James was definitely as committed as he was to making this show a success. Of course, how they got to that success was still up for debate, but he could never doubt James' commitment.

The timer on his phone dinged again, and Kendall went to the fridge to pull out the dough. It felt right to be working on something right now, as they tried to muddle through this new hurdle. Whenever he'd struggled with anything cropping up in his life, he'd always gone to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, if you put flour with leavening, you got dough, and if you baked the dough, you bread and pastries and rolls. There was a logically reassuring certainty about baking-like Kendall was asserting control when he didn't have any.

"How many more rinse and repeats do we have left?" James asked, not even looking up from his laptop.

"One more, and then they bake."

"I find it difficult to believe that anything is worth all this."

"Wait and see," Kendall insisted.

"You keep saying that." James rolled his eyes. Kendall couldn't see his whole face, but he'd begun to discover just what James' voice sounded like when his face did that cute little scrunchy thing that always accompanied an eye roll.

Kendall shouldn't, but he couldn't help imagining feeding James little bites of hot, flaky, buttery pastry dotted with the rich, dark chocolate and him moaning with pleasure as the flavors hit his tongue. He couldn't help it because he was just a man and James was wearing him down with each cute scrunchy face and every snarky retort.

Kendall was befuddled because those weren't supposed to be things that attracted to him. They weren't supposed to be things that attracted anyone. But somehow those things-and a growing list of others-had caught him and now he wasn't just flirting because he was trying to out-James Bond James Bond. He was flirting because he couldn't do anything else.

And that was a problem, mostly because Kendall had been incredibly dumb and had kissed him like he was trying to eat him alive and then had sent him an email that would have turned off the most understanding and forgiving of people.

James was definitely not that understanding or forgiving.

"Kendall...Kendall..._Kendall_." James' voice hit him suddenly and Kendall realized that while he'd been daydreaming, trying to figure out how to get James to eat from his fingers and _like it _and also forget all about that very unforgettable email, he'd been trying to get his attention.

"Sorry," he said.

James threw up his hands in frustration. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Um...no?" Kendall put on his most charming sheepish expression and hoped that would melt the exasperation on James' face. It didn't. Not even a dent.

"I said, tomorrow we should get what you need at your apartment to make it baking-friendly."

"Right, yes, we can do that." Kendall realized after he's said it that _we _had to be a misnomer, because James had no clue what he needed at his apartment to make it "baking-friendly," whatever that meant.

"You'll put the list together?"

Kendall saw an opening and even though his attraction confused the hell out of him, it didn't confuse him enough to not take advantage of it.

"You said _we_," he said with a faux leer that Jett had once said made him look like a creeper. But that was Jett, and Kendall took everything he said with a massive grain of salt.

The look in James' eyes when he glanced up was dismissive.

"Like I would know what you need to bake stuff," he said. "You make the list, and we'll go get the stuff tomorrow. You-list; me-corporate credit card."

"Let me guess, you're also in charge of the budget."

"Yes and no. Dak just sent me a message and said we could work from your place, _and _he'd foot anything that didn't seem excessive." James looked rather self-satisfied at that, and Kendall couldn't blame him. He also couldn't deny that a week ago, that smug look would have made him crazy, today, all it did was make him want to wipe it off. With his mouth.

It wasn't so much a problem as it was...complicated.

The timer on his phone went off again, and this time he dragged James off his barstool, ignoring the pulse of electricity under his skin when his fingers closed around James' forearm.

James had some serious muscle tone under all that smooth skin, and that was an image that Kendall didn't need to have when he was trying to explain to James how to roll out the dough for the final steps.

"A big rectangle, like this-ish," Kendall said, gesturing with his hands. James just stood there, looking him levelly, his arms crossed across his chest, which might just be a way he stood all the time, but right now, only emphasized to Kendall that he'd somehow missed that James was all lean muscle he desperately wanted to see.

He'd thought this was complicated, but the more he sunk into this new understanding of James, the more difficult Kendall realized the situation really was. Because he wanted him, much more than he'd ever imagined.

"Maybe you should give me an actual dimension," James retorted frostily.

"We'll work on that," Kendall coaxed. "It'll be great, just...more flour. Lots of flour. We don't want the dough to stick to the counter."

"Not after we've spent four hours in this torture chamber," James snarked.

Kendall knew it had been frustrating at points, but he thought they'd had a pretty solid morning. He was a little offended that James had just referred to the kitchen as a torture chamber, because that made Kendall the head torturer. Yeah, complicated was probably an understatement.

"Just...flour the damn counter," Kendall said.

James did as instructed, but only after tying the apron back on, which surprised Kendall. That had been a silently acknowledged instrument of torture (apparently) and here James was, voluntarily putting it back on. Of course, he was probably more worried about the state of his clothes than the stupid apron.

The rolling went pretty well. James had good technique, he was slow and careful and even with the pressure. Kendall stood a little ways behind him, and made all the right encouraging noises and tried not to check out his ass in those pants.

He remembered a point when he'd made fun of those khakis. Now he just wanted to worship them. Or at least what they contained.

"How's that?" James asked, standing back and eyeing the rectangle of dough critically. Like this was a life-and-death situation. And baking could be tricky, you often had to be extremely precise, but this was the easy part of the whole thing. It was tough to fuck this up, but James never let up on himself for a single second. He had the most A-plus personality that Kendall had ever encountered.

"It's fine," Kendall said before pointing at the knife. "Now trim the edges, and cut it into four equal strips."

Instead of grabbing the knife, James turned around and there was fire and brimstone flashing in his eyes. Kendall stood there shocked, because even at their worst, even when they'd been trading insults in the break room and even after Kendall had sent him the worst email in the history of emails, James hadn't looked at him like that.

"Do you mean to tell me," James said, voice low and frustrated, "that we're only getting _four _croissants out of this?"

Kendall knew he should have doubled the recipe, but it had seemed easier at the beginning to keep things small and relatively simpler.

"Uh...yes?" He remembered after answering that James was easily within reach of both a knife and a rolling pin. Both of which he could use to exact his revenge on Kendall.

"Are you serious?!" James hissed. "Four fucking hours on _four _croissants?!"

"I thought it was more about the experience and the journey. Besides, you said you don't even like sweets." Kendall was torn between groveling and also throwing up an arm to protect himself against the inevitable attack with the rolling pin, which James was still gripping tightly.

"I don't." James was still shooting fire from his eyes. It shouldn't have been sexy, but it was. Kendall couldn't explain that or anything else that had happened today, but logic was overrated. Maybe he should just go with it.

"Right, well, let's continue cutting the dough then. Four even strips." Kendall wanted to power through this, and maybe then they could finally get them in the oven, and he could see his fantasy come to life. James, putting his food in his mouth.

"This is ridiculous," James ground out. But he still turned back to the work surface and began to cut the dough.

"Noted," Kendall retorted. But he knew the difference was stark. This time, he sounded amused and not angry. Not like before. He wondered if James was paying close enough attention to care. Or if it even mattered.

James didn't say anything else, just absorbed the instructions on how to roll up the chocolate bar in the middle of each dough strip, and then brush with a beaten egg.

"And now, _finally_, the oven," Kendall said.

"Why do people even do this?" James wondered, and Kendall thought it was probably a rhetorical question, but he was going to answer it anyway. At least so James might absorb some of why baking was so vital to Kendall.

"Because once you've tasted the real thing, not the chemical-flavored, soggy, sunken artificial croissant, you won't want anything else."

"I thought you were going to feed me some sort of bullshit about pride in your work."

"That was next."

"Right, how long in the oven?" James asked, picking up the tray and walking it over the oven. Kendall was only a little ashamed, but the sight of him holding a tray of baked goods was undeniably a turn on.

"Fifteen minutes."

James absorbed that, and then immediately ripped off the apron. "I'll be right back."

Thirteen minutes later-Kendall totally didn't time James on his watch or anything, because that would be creepy-he returned, holding two cups of coffee. From the good coffee place that was a block further than the coffee cart on the first floor of the building.

"I figured if we were having first-class pain au chocolat, we might as well indulge in better coffee." James handed Kendall his cup with a shrug like he was trying to downplay the gesture. Maybe he was just trying to downplay that it meant anything deeper.

But Kendall already believed it went deeper.

"Thank you," he said right as the timer went off.

The pain au chocolat came out of the oven a beautiful burnished golden brown, crisp edges, with the scent of butter and chocolate wafting through the air.

James stared at the tray and seemed to be fighting himself.

"Don't you want to have one?" Kendall asked. He'd been sure James would be on the pan before they even cooled, desperate and eager to prove to Kendall that he was wrong. That it wasn't worth the time and effort to bake a pain au chocolat from scratch.

"Maybe we should wait for them to cool a minute."

"They're perfect just like this," Kendall argued before reaching over and depositing one in James' palm.

"Hot," James complained, but he still lifted the pastry to his mouth and took a single bite. In Kendall's fantasy, he'd been feeding him in tantalizing little bites, waiting until James begged him for more. But this was good too.

James' eyes drifted over the first bite, and the expression on his face as he chewed and swallowed was _very _good. There was undeniable bliss, and Kendall knew if he'd been able to hold it back, he would have. It made the success even sweeter.

"Good?" Kendall asked innocently.

Setting the pastry on the counter with careful, deliberate movements, James turned towards Kendall. There was something conflicted on his face, like he was doing all of this against his better judgment.

Kendall understood that feeling far too well.

"How do you do that?" James asked plaintively.

"Do what?"

James threw his hands up. "Be so damn good at this! Win me over to your side when I know just how much I want you to be wrong and I know just how stubborn I am."

Kendall took a step closer even though James' expression was telling him he'd better stay right where he was.

"You wanted the best," he said, his voice shaky. "Why are you so disappointed you got it?"

"I'm not, I'm not," James tried to protest, but he'd already said enough and the green light was flashing in Kendall's head. James might pretend to be aloof and uninterested, and might fight this every inch of the way, but he felt the exact same pull Kendall did. And this time, Kendall wasn't going to fuck it up by being angry.

It wasn't going to go away. In fact, it was only getting stronger. Kendall usually acted on instinct, and he did now. There were only three steps between him and James, and he crossed them in a blink but he still hesitated when he'd reached his destination.

James' eyes were huge, wide and shocked as Kendall slid a hand around the back of his collar. But he didn't pull away and he didn't say no. Kendall had been sure he'd need to argue his case harder, spend longer trying to erase the memory of their first kiss and then the email.

But instead, James held his ground and held Kendall's gaze and waited for him to close the distance between them.

Kendall kissed him. It took an achingly long moment for James to respond, to reciprocate. A heart-stopping moment when Kendall thought that maybe he'd judged everything wrong and that hadn't been the green light he'd secretly been dying for.

Then James' mouth moved against his, sluggish and hesitant at first, and then his tongue was slipping between his lips and he tasted just as he'd expected-like chocolate and coffee and butter-and like nothing he'd ever anticipated-sharp and charged, like the red wine that grew high up in the hills of Mount Veeder at the edge of the valley.

It was fierce and hot and the power of it blew out every fuse in his head, giving Kendall no time to get his kissing shit together. His hands had drifted up James' arms, and he was wondering if it was too soon to go for his cock when James suddenly pulled away. His face was flushed, his eyes on the floor.

But he was breathing hard, the rhythm an echo of the ricochet of Kendall's heartbeat.

The only thing Kendall could think was that he needed another chance, another shot, because that couldn't be the last time it ever happened between them. A week ago he hadn't even liked this man, and now he couldn't get enough of him.

Had James changed or was it Kendall who was irrevocably altered? He didn't know, and he wasn't sure it mattered.

"This isn't happening," James said resolutely before Kendall could catch up and make sure that he knew everything he'd done was definitely okay. More than okay. Actually, perfectly fucking splendid.

"It just happened," Kendall said frankly. "Come back over here and it'll happen again." This was more the reaction he'd been expecting after the first kiss, and for it to happen now, after the mind-blowing second kiss, was unexpected and frustrating.

James shook his head emphatically. "This is the worst idea in the history of ideas. You don't even like me. I don't know why you decided to flirt with me, but apparently I can only take so much before I fold."

"I _do _like you," Kendall said, even though it sounded stupid.

James shot him a look that said loud and clear that he definitely thought it sounded stupid.

"Okay," He said, clearly not convinced. "But it's still not happening again. This is a major distraction that we don't need. And I don't really like you either. Or your face." His expression grew downright challenging.

The first problem was that Kendall didn't believe him at all. The second problem was that James still believed he'd meant that email.

"Fine," Kendall said, unconcerned. James might be talking big right now, but Kendall knew what it felt like when someone wanted him, and James wanted him. Kendall just had to wait until James was done fighting with himself. It wouldn't matter how long it took, because Kendall knew he was going to get what they _both _wanted.

* * *

**Done! So, things are still a bit tense and awkward with Kames, but it looks like things are slowly possibly heading in the right direction. :P**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed! I'm quite sure when the next chapter will be up just yet, but it'll more than likely be up sometime next week.**

**Until then! :D**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Hello again everyone! Welcome back to Explosive! :D**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, Guest, Side1ways, RainbowDiamonds, and XxxAnimaniacxxX for reviewing!**

**This one is a little long, but I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

Not even five minutes after the kiss, the kitchen was overrun by Stephanie and Lucy and Camille, Stephanie's crew of prep assistants. James tried not to think what they would've thought if they'd come in just a tiny bit earlier and caught him kissing Kendall.

Or Kendall kissing him.

James still wasn't sure exactly how it had happened, only that it had happened at all, and if he was being very honest with himself, the world had shook and the floor had rocked and when he'd opened his eyes again, nothing was the same. It was the first kiss he'd always dreamt he'd get from Kendall, and he'd let himself be persuaded into it because he'd imagined it would be like the first time.

It hadn't been anything like the first time. It had been dreamy and wonderful and perfect.

It couldn't happen again, but James could already tell from the determined glint in Kendall's eyes that he wanted it to. That he believed it was only a matter of time before James gave in and let it happen again.

Kendall thought he knew James, but all he'd seen was the professional surface he'd spent years cultivating. He didn't know anything about the steel inside that had been forged through even more shitty years making the best of bad situations.

And he'd seen enough in those situations that he wasn't going to let himself be swayed into a situation where he liked Kendall and Kendall just thought it was convenient and easy and a simple way to convince James to go along with whatever he suggested.

James was never going to be the guy who fell for that and then let it drag on. He'd been manipulated before, and it wasn't going to happen again. It was necessary for Kendall to understand that now.

He scrolled through his email, pretending like he was actually working, while he listened to Stephanie and her minions divide up the remaining pain au chocolat and exclaim all over the place about how talented Kendall was, how innovative, how flawless his execution was.

James could see the remaining half of his abandoned pain au chocolat on the other counter, and he had a visceral memory of how much he'd really hated Kendall when he'd taken that first bite. He'd hated that everything Kendall had said was true, and he'd tried to hate that smug look as Kendall watched him discover all his truths.

The final, and worst, truth being that he didn't hate Kendall at all.

It was just ironic that Stephanie and her assistants were so excited about Kendall's talents when Kendall had only been tangentially involved. They wouldn't be squealing all over the damn place if they'd discovered James had made the pain au chocolat they were currently ingesting.

"Someday," Stephanie was saying, "I want to take you to this little bakery down the street. The choux are a revelation. And I want to pick your brain as you figure out how they do it."

James tried not to grind his teeth together as Kendall talked with Stephanie. He shouldn't have been jealous. He and Kendall weren't even friends, and Kendall was a decent enough human being that James couldn't deny him workplace friends. Even if they weren't him.

"Are we done?" he asked as he stood, gathering his papers, notebook, and laptop. "I have a meeting." He didn't have a meeting, and if Stephanie went and looked at his schedule later, she'd know he manufactured a reason to escape.

Kendall glanced over, and James steeled himself against the silent apology in his gaze. "Yeah, of course, if you've got to split, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

It wasn't his proudest moment, but later as he collapsed on his couch, feet and brain and heart hurting, he realized what he'd done. He'd given Kendall all the advantages, all the power, all because he'd run away.

What he should do is get up, and go right over to where Kendall was probably in his apartment, cooking something delicious, and take some of that power back. His heart and something deeper, a fault line that ran right through the core of him, quaked at the thought. He could _do _something.

It was a huge risk, the sort of unimaginable risk that James couldn't have conceptualized even a few months ago. But the promotion, even as uncertain as it was, had begun to give him the sort of solid foundation he'd always craved.

And once life had become less of a rat race towards one goal or another, always something necessary and vitally important, James had become unbearably aware of all the couples that surrounded him. And the contentment their happy relationships gave them.

He'd seen Dak grow confident and happier the longer he was with Chris. He'd watched Nick worry and stew and pray his husband, Mike, had figured out where he wanted to play football next. He'd seen one of Stephanie's assistants blossom as she fell in love with her girlfriend.

Love was something James had only vaguely heard about, because any kind of love was constantly in short supply in the homes he'd grown up in. There were always more important priorities.

But he'd filled those priorities and they weren't yelling at him anymore. He was clothed and fed and had a solid roof over his head. He had money in the bank. He wasn't living a terrified hand-to-mouth existence anymore. He could afford to be exploratory, even if the possibility scared the shit out of him.

But even the fear wasn't enough to stop him. Even the promise he'd made to himself only an hour earlier that he wouldn't let Kendall kiss him again.

That was the thing. He wasn't going to let Kendall do anything. _He_ was going to be the one doing the kissing this time. The thought was fucking terrifying, but James had never let fear stop him.

"This is probably a mistake," he told himself as he got to his feet and went to look for shoes. "This is almost definitely a mistake."

Yet he still found the shoes, shoved his feet in them and still stomped one door down the hall.

Kendall answered on the third knock, looking very surprised to see James on the other side of his doorway.

"Sorry about earlier," James said in a rush because suddenly he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to go from the awkward realization he was standing on Kendall's doorstep to kissing him like he wanted to. His lack of any experience besides just sort of falling into bed with people had never seemed daunting. It was now.

He didn't have a clue how to seduce someone. It seemed to come so naturally to Kendall because when he wasn't pissing James off, he was trying to charm him-usually successfully. James didn't do that; James _couldn't _do that.

Kendall lifted an eyebrow. "Are you apologizing _again _for kissing me back? I didn't think you had a bad time on the second try." He was holding a whisk in one hand, and he had flour on his shirt.

"I'm sorry," James said because apparently all he could do was apologize. And even he knew that apologies usually weren't preludes to anything sexy. "I interrupted you...cooking something."

Kendall pushed the door further open and just shrugged. "Is it an interruption if you do it regularly enough? Besides, I'm making dinner, you might as well come in if you haven't eaten."

James had been in too much of a hurry to escape the office and his inconvenient, annoying jealousy to grab food on his way home, and his fridge was empty except for three bottles of fancy mustard and half a bottle of sauvignon blanc. His stomach rumbled as he stepped into the apartment and he smelled something buttery baking.

"You eat too much butter," James said as he toed his shoes off near the front mat.

"At least butter's natural. It isn't processed shit," Kendall called from the kitchen.

This apartment was basically the same as his own, except for the kitchen, which James could acknowledge was drastically different. Not the layout. Not the countertops, not the appliances. Just the flour dusting the countertops, and something delicious sauteing on the stove, and the general appearance of a room being used.

James mostly used his to unbox takeout containers and to reheat leftovers the next day.

"You want some wine?" Kendall asked, gesturing to the bottle on the counter. "I've actually been to this winery, so I can vouch that it's pretty good."

James had just graduated from buying the very cheap wine at the grocery store, the wine that was a whisper above the box wine and the huge jugs of white zinfandel. He'd never actually been to a winery; in fact, his only trip to Napa had been the six-hour round-trip he'd made to collect Kendall.

It wasn't like he didn't _want _to expand his horizons-Dak was always coaching him to do just that-but horizon-expanding took money and, until recently, he'd never been in any position to indulge.

He poured himself a glass of the cabernet sauvignon and sniffed it, carefully swirling the glass like Dak had taught him the first time he'd taken him to a nice restaurant for dinner.

"It is pretty good," James admitted. Even to his relatively uncultured palate. And it might give him the liquid courage to close the few feet of distance Kendall was giving him.

"I know the sommelier who's in charge there," Kendall said, and his voice grew grittier as he stirred the pan on the stove and then pulled it off the heat.

James almost asked if it was an ex-boyfriend but Kendall seemed like he was going to tell him even if he didn't really want to know about all the people Kendall had kissed before him. Especially not when James was planning on doing more kissing.

"You know Carlos?" Kendall asked, shaking the sauteed veggies in the pan and carefully stirring them into the bowl on the counter. "My old roommate?"

James barely remembered anything about his trip to Napa, except the lighter fluid stench coming off Kendall and the guilt in his eyes. But he nodded anyway, even though all he had was an impression of the guy.

"Yeah, it's Carlos' ex. Good sommelier. Terrible boyfriend." He hesitated as he pulled a partially baked pie crust from the oven, which explained the deliciously buttery smell in the apartment. "Got us some great wine though. Not that this one is spectacular, but he was connected, you know?"

James had learned really fast that some people-okay, _most _people-didn't want to know about how he wasn't connected at all. Or about his shitty childhood. Or about how he'd clawed his way up the ladder of success. He'd been on a handful of very terrible dates where he'd been at least partially honest when asked, and afterward, he'd figured out that when people asked, they weren't asking because they actually wanted to know the truth.

Kendall poured the contents of the bowl into the crust and sprinkled some sort of cheese over the top.

"What are you making?" James asked, because changing the subject seemed like the best plan he could come up with at such short notice.

"Veggie quiche with some really good fontina I picked up at the farmer's market," Kendall said, like everyone came home from a trying day and whipped together a gourmet meal.

Sometimes it felt like too much for James to dial the number to the local Chinese restaurant.

Kendall must have caught James' eye roll because he smirked. "Are you going to tease me now about the good fontina from the farmer's market?" He was leaning over the counter, eyes sparkling under the lights, looking too delicious for words, even with the flour dusting his T-shirt. _Especially _with the flour dusting his T-shirt.

"It was just such a cliche. You're like a walking chef cliche ninety-four point six percent of the time."

He didn't look concerned about James' accusation, though, and James couldn't help but be a little surprised. Two weeks ago, that comment would have gotten James a sour lemon expression and some biting remark back.

"Why are you being so nice?" James wanted to know. He wanted to know even more, like what Kendall wanted from here, but he thought he'd start small. Simple.

"To you? Especially when you seem to enjoy making fun of me?" Kendall shrugged, clearly unconcerned by the sudden shift in their relationship. "I'm not sure. Why does it matter?"

"It matters because it matters."

"Some things don't require you to overthink them. Just like some pastries shouldn't rise too much. Or that a dessert can be too sweet, but can never have too much chocolate."

"Life advice from Kendall Knight. You should change career paths." James knew he got bitchy when he got defensive. "Finding Your Best Self by Kendall."

James ignored the twinge of hurt in Kendall's eyes.

"Hey, I never promised I was some sort of expert. I sort of fall into most things," he said, his voice still easy, "and when I got out of my own way, this seemed pretty obvious."

"I can't do that. I don't do that." James hesitated, confessions teetering on the edge of his tongue, but he held them back. "If something isn't going to work out, if something looks like it's going to fail, I make sure it doesn't." He didn't want this to fail, but he also didn't know how to make it a success.

_Show me how_, he wanted to beg Kendall, but his pride would have stung far too much to ever admit that out loud.

"You know," Kendall said casually, "that explains a lot about you. About how you are with your job."

James turned away, twisting the stem of his wine glass. "I thought I was the luckiest person in the world when I got a paid internship at Five Points my senior year of college. It was the best opportunity I was ever going to get, and I jumped on it."

"And you worked your ass off," Kendall finished. When James glanced up, he was smiling ruefully.

"What?" Kendall asked with amusement. "Don't tell me you've changed that much."

James flushed and nodded. "I haven't. I did everything they asked me to do. And it wasn't glamorous stuff, we didn't do any videos back then. Not like now. The culinary department didn't even exist. Most of the staff writers had assistants. I was an assistant to the assistants. And that makes it sound even better than it was."

"How did you end up working for Dak?" Kendall asked. "He's never struck me as the sort who would get a new job and demand an assistant."

"Oh god, no," James breathed out. "That didn't even become official right away. I had started helping out here and there on the Dream Team set, this was right before I graduated from college, and I really wanted to transition from a paid internship to a full-time paid position. And I thought if I made myself an expert, the guy you went to for everything related to that show, I might _make _myself a job."

"So you helped Dak when he came on."

James leaned over the counter, wondering how, in a week, he and Kendall had gone from hating each other to reluctantly working together, to conspiratorially trading work stories and sharing a bottle of wine as Kendall cooked.

For the very first time, he let himself think, _I want more. I want this all the time._

"You and Dak have more in common than you realize," James confessed.

"We're both brilliant chefs?" Kendall's incredulous look left James feeling warm inside. Too warm. He took a gulp of wine before belatedly realizing that was _not _going to help at all.

"Other than that," James said. "When he started, he was fucking lost. Chris helped, of course, especially with his Dream Team producing duties. But the rest of it? I found myself doing a lot of stuff he asked me to help him with."

Kendall leaned over the stove, pulling the oven door open a crack to check his quiche. James tried to ignore the way his T-shirt rode up his back, exposing a tempting slice of bare skin.

He failed. He wanted to reach over and touch that skin. He wanted to know what it tasted like under his tongue.

"So how long did you officially work as Dak's assistant?"

James hesitated. "Are we really having the conversation we should have had the first day you showed up? Right _now_?"

"You just knocked on my door. We're having a nice glass of wine. I kissed you today and we both liked it." Kendall shrugged unrepentantly. "It makes sense to start over, as much as we can."

James couldn't believe his nerve, but Kendall did seem to do that: float through life, unconcerned and not heavily bogged down by regrets or complicated situations. He was a surface person; James was desperate for roots. They were probably not the most obvious match, and James knew that, but sometimes fate was crazy like that. You wanted the wrong person, even if you knew he was the wrong person.

And then, suddenly, like a light flashing on, it didn't even matter.

James reached over and grabbed the hem of Kendall's T-shirt and jerked him closer. "Then let's start over," he said before kissing him.

It probably wasn't the best line ever. It wasn't even the most successful line, but that didn't matter because Kendall's mouth was on his. Pleasure roared through James like a freight train. He hadn't even realized how much he'd wanted until he could just take, so he did.

He fisted his hand in the hair that he'd been watching and wanting for eight months, and it was just as soft and necessary as James had imagined it would be. It also proved handy to use as a directional force because Kendall went just where James wanted him, sliding right back against the counter, his mouth a hot brand against James'.

It turned out that seduction was easy when you just took what you wanted. James took Kendall's mouth, his hair, and then his body as his other hand slid right down his back, fingers testing and touching every lean inch of muscle the way his eyes had for the past week.

It was also easy when you didn't think, when you let the fire of desire consume everything-every fear, every worry, every quietly murmured doubt.

James flipped up the hem of Kendall's T-shirt and slid his hand right up the skin of his back.

It felt even more incredible than he'd imagined, and then Kendall moaned, something wild and free and unhinged, like he was torn apart by James kissing him, by James pursuing him.

It wasn't like James didn't think he was worth wanting; it was more complicated than that. And James didn't want to do complicated right now. He'd done complicated his whole damn life, and right now a really hot guy was kissing him and beginning to sort of grind against his thigh, his hard cock definitely mirroring James' own.

It was so easy to just say, _fuck it_.

When James broke the kiss with a gasp, Kendall's lips were red and wet, the same color as the raspberry strawberry tarts he'd made that had started everything. And it was so easy to tangle his fingers deeper into Kendall's hair. James had barely even begun to push when Kendall tore the floor right out from under James and sunk to his knees.

Yeah, James definitely wanted that, but he'd also never conceptualized that it was a thing that could actually happen.

He watched as Kendall unbuckled his belt with legitimately trembling fingers. Something James had always been sure only happened in overwrought porn. But his own fingers didn't feel so steady either, so it could definitely happen, especially when the moment felt like this and you were so close to the edge you could tumble right off with only a gentle nudge.

There was no time to worry. No time to second-guess. Kendall already had his cock out, pleasure spiking as he stroked it expertly with those long, slender fingers that James had already been fantasizing about for months.

Then Kendall lowered his mouth, and James stopped thinking at all. There was only a fuzzy haze of bliss blanketing everything, and for the first time in what felt like forever, James just let himself feel it. At least up until the moment his cock slipped out of Kendall's mouth and he realized that Kendall was babbling helplessly as his fingers reached back and gripped James tight by the ass, each of his ten fingers branding him.

"God, your ass in these pants," Kendall was mumbling, "I love it so damn much."

And like the worst nightmare in the world, a single, blinding flash.

_I really hate your face._

James _tried _to push it aside. He worked really hard, so hard in fact, that he felt himself grow the opposite. And then the flare of embarrassment as he couldn't help but flash back to every single damning word of that email. All those disparaging, drunk, stupid words.

He wrenched his body away, his rapidly softening dick falling from Kendall's worshipful fingers.

James couldn't look down, couldn't see Kendall's face as he realized everything was wrong.

His fingers were still trembling stupidly as he stuffed himself back in his briefs and zipped his fly. His belt buckle was hopeless and he just left it dangling uselessly.

"What's going on?" Kendall asked softly. Carefully. Like he was afraid he'd spook a wild animal.

And it was James who was the wild animal; the wild card who'd just lost his mind and let Kendall blow him and then lost the whole train because he couldn't forget-not really, not when it counted-that Kendall didn't really like him.

James remembered too many homes he'd lived in, where the kids' faces would change the moment he walked in the room. And then how they'd suck up later that night, begging for James to do their homework for them or to help them out with something.

He remembered every single time he'd gone to bed with that sick feeling in his stomach. Needed for something but never really liked. Never respected. Always used.

It turned out that it didn't feel different even if he was the one doing the using.

"I can't do this," James said, and to his own shock, his voice was steady. Rock steady. Like his belt wasn't dangling undone, and Kendall wasn't still on his knees in his kitchen.

"It just…" Kendall said, and then hesitated. And yeah, James didn't know what to say either. How else did you address the elephant in the room that the guy you were blowing suddenly and inexplicably lost his hard-on?

"It happened," James said with a hard edge, and forced himself to turn back and meet Kendall's eyes straight on. To take in Kendall's position and remember that it was him who had put him there. "It's not going to happen again."

"You're the one who showed up on my doorstep!" Kendall exclaimed, pulling himself upright.

"Yes, well, I wanted to check in with you before tomorrow. And now that I have, I'll be going," James said. He picked up his wine glass, letting the rest of the alcohol slide down his throat. It didn't help. He set the glass on the counter with a decisive click.

"Wait," Kendall said. "Don't go. You haven't even had dinner yet."

"That's your dinner, not mine." It hurt, realizing that it was probably never going to be his dinner. But the short-term pain was easier than the long-term; he'd learned that the hard way.

"Why are you being like this?" Kendall asked, and yeah, he was definitely annoyed.

"I'm being this way because we cleared the air, we had a nice glass of wine together, and now you want more out of me. But it's not going to happen. This wasn't some sort of impromptu date."

"You can't ignore this," Kendall protested. "You wanted it too. I know you did." He didn't even have to say, _I had your dick in my mouth and it was hard and you wanted it._

"But I _am_ ignoring it," James said, pulling the door open, "I'm exercising my right to not deal with this."

James shouldn't have been surprised that Kendall followed him right out the door, socks and all. Really, in retrospect, he should have just kept going and not stopped, therefore tipping Kendall off to the fact that they lived next door to each other. A fact James had been very determined to keep to himself.

"What are you doing?" Kendall asked, shock on his features as James pulled out his keys and proceeded to unlock his door.

"Going home," James shot over with a challenging look.

"You live next door," he stated incredulously.

"Five Points owns this building. Dak got me a good deal when I was looking for a new place."

"Just like my 'good deal,'" Kendall said wonderingly. "I wondered why it seemed so convenient."

James rolled his eyes. "You should have read your lease a lot more carefully. This place is rented to you as long as you're an employee of Five Points."

Kendall didn't look phased for a moment, and James figured that was because he'd never been desperate and on the edge of homeless. If it ever happened to him, he'd learn to read his leases.

Tapping his foot impatiently, James asked, "Are we done here?"

It was so sudden, James would tell himself that was why he didn't see it coming. Except that Kendall uttered some stupid first line about, "one more thing," and that should have been all the warning James needed that he was going to take another three steps, cup James' chin in one beautiful hand, and kiss him again.

Later, James would also tell himself that the reason he didn't stop it right away was because he was so surprised, but how could that really be true after what had just happened?

So if James fell into the kiss, let his head be tipped back against his door, let his mouth be nearly ransacked by Kendall's mouth, let himself wonder if that was his slightly salty taste, then that was his own damn fault.

Then Kendall broke the kiss way too soon, leaving James wanting more and again and _everything_, but it was all useless, and Kendall's lips, wet and red, superseded anything else.

"You weren't supposed to do that again," James said unsteadily, because the blood had left his brain again and taken a fast route to his cock. He shifted his hips away from Kendall, because even though he'd probably already felt his hard-on, James didn't need him to gloat about it. Yes, it was back. No, this still wasn't happening.

Kendall placed a finger right on his damp lips to shut him up.

"I know what you're about to say," he said, "and I'm just going to stop you there, before you say it."

James glared, but Kendall didn't move. "Besides," Kendall said with a cute little shrug that James wanted to hate, but didn't, "we both know everything you were about to say was some bullshit you're trying to believe and that I don't believe at all."

James backed up a step, and then another, even though this was _his _doorway. Kendall's hand fell to his side, and he was free to insist that Kendall was the one who was full of shit, but for the first time in a long time, he didn't know how to refute something so blindingly obvious.

"Don't ever do that again." James crossing his arms over his chest-because _hello, defiant body language_,and also it kept Kendall at arm's length while James tried to figure out what to do with him.

"What? Kiss you?" Kendall raised an eyebrow. "Blow you? I'm more than happy to do both again."

"Shut me up," James corrected. "Besides, I'm hardly the one who needs to stop talking. Or _typing_."

James' bomb hit Kendall just the way he'd expected it to. Hard. And it left a trail of guilt and shame in its wake. It should have made James feel better, but it turned out he didn't like seeing Kendall look like a kicked puppy. The aggressively charming, certain-of-his-own-charisma Kendall was a lot more fun. James licked his lips and tried not to think about why that might be.

"I should really...apologize for that," Kendall mumbled.

"For what?" James asked, loudly and clearly. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that."

"I was an asshole. I wrote some asshole things. None of which I really meant, by the way. And I'm sorry."

James shot him a level stare. "Five-point seven points for execution, three-point eight points for technique. And don't even get me started on the sincerity."

"What?!" Kendall exclaimed, a little of his fight coming back. "I totally meant that! I _am _sorry."

"And yet it took you _days_ to apologize. Would you have even apologized if I hadn't said anything?" James waited for a response, continuing when Kendall said nothing. "That's what I thought. Now that we've established that I'm good enough to blow, but not good enough to apologize to, I'm going in my apartment now. Move."

Kendall conceded the doorway with a shambling, ashamed motion that made James feel even guiltier. And it wasn't his responsibility to feel guilty. He wasn't the one who'd written that email and then not apologized for it. Anything he wanted to ding Kendall for, he should be free and clear to ding away.

It didn't matter that he'd spent the past week convincing himself that the email meant nothing and that he hadn't cared that Kendall had sent it, because it was clearly all bullshit.

It mattered. _Kendall _mattered.

* * *

Desire was fine and good when everyone had a good time and got their rocks off. But sometimes desire was slippery, and you couldn't get a handle on it.

It shouldn't have been a big deal. Kendall had given James half a blowjob. He'd been enjoying himself so much he'd ached with it. Had been tempted, with James' dick in his mouth, to slide his hand down the front of his pants and hump his own palm.

It was tempting to do it now. Kendall still didn't know what had stopped him after he'd gone back to his own apartment and spent the rest of the night sulking. He didn't know what was stopping him now.

Maybe because what he wanted was something he couldn't have, and the idea of settling for his own hand felt paltry in comparison. If he couldn't have James, maybe he could at least think about him. Kendall imagined that tight ass naked, spread out for him on his bed. James, glancing back, desire written all over his face, pleading for Kendall to touch him.

_No_. Kendall shredded that fantasy, unhappy with it as he palmed himself through his boxer briefs. He was already hard-had barely gone soft since he'd been on his knees in the kitchen-and there was a damp spot in the cotton.

It would be so easy to get off. He just needed the right image. The perfect image. Kendall rolled through them, one after another. James bending over, James on all fours, James on his knees, James with a cruel smile on his as his fist wrapped around Kendall's dick.

Pleasure arched through him as Kendall shoved his underwear aside and gripped himself. That was what he wanted. He didn't want James on his knees for him. He wanted James owning up to every bit of his own power and control. He wanted James completely in control and completely under his spell.

It was rougher than Kendall usually liked, but that added to the swirl of fantasy in his own head. James, smiling with a hint of teeth as he worked him over good, thumb swiping over the head and making Kendall groan.

Kendall was making himself moan, but suddenly that didn't matter. It was James doing it. James was in charge. James was wringing this pleasure out of his body. Only James.

He couldn't even enjoy the hot burst of pleasure from his orgasm because he was already panicking about what it meant.

He wanted James, but James was pissed off. James might even hate him a little. And he might have a legitimate reason. Kendall groaned and grabbed a handful of tissues from the bedside table. He should feel more relaxed now, his problem taken care of, but instead he felt edgier than ever.

What could he say to James so he would forgive him? Was it even possible or was Kendall chasing a pipe dream? Was he going to be resigned to forever fantasizing about James in his bed and never actually having him?

* * *

James didn't hesitate when he got back inside his apartment. He immediately headed for the shower and sanity. Stripping his clothes off, he turned the water on as hot as he could stand.

He ducked his head under the spray and hissed as the water beat down over his forehead.

James had known it was a mistake a long time ago to start thinking about Kendall while jacking off. He'd always been afraid it would make things weird between them if and when Kendall came to work at Five Points. It turned out that, ironically, James thinking about him while orgasming was hardly the weirdest part of their relationship.

He gave himself a tentative pump, and yeah, he was still hard, and still definitely into at least _thinking _about Kendall while getting off.

Maybe he wasn't ready yet for Kendall to actually be involved, but it was still easy to just let his mind drift and settle on an image of them together.

Him bent over the kitchen counter, Kendall sliding into him slowly, just thick enough to make him ache and feel it the next day. His hand caressing his back, letting him know how much he cared, even as his cock made sure James knew just how much he wanted him. James' hand sped up on his own dick, rough and careless, as he chased the pleasure he imagined Kendall could give him.

It was over too soon, but James knew he'd been too worked up to last. He could still feel the ghost of Kendall's mouth around him, and how wet and warm it had been. And that last thought was all it took to blow his load against the tile wall. He let out a groan, and wondered, just for a second, if Kendall could hear. If Kendall would know what he was doing.

If maybe Kendall was doing the same thing.

* * *

**Done! So...yeah, it looks like things are complicated at the moment.**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! We're officially a little over the halfway mark! There's still more to come, but we're slowly but surely closing in on the finish line. The next chapter of this probably won't be up until next weekend.**

**Until then! :D**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hello again everyone! Welcome back to Explosive!**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, RainbowDiamonds, Side1ways, Guest, and annabellex2 for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

James was pissed. Kendall had (very) belatedly realized this last night, and had spent the morning realizing just how pissed he was.

The thing about James was that he wasn't like anyone else Kendall knew. Nobody else could have been _that_ angry and just hid it all, so completely, that even the person he was angry at didn't know. Nobody else could have kissed him, and been as hard as he was, lost to the pleasure Kendall was giving him, and feel the anger he did.

Kendall felt incredibly stupid that he hadn't seen it sooner, but then he reminded himself that James must have worked hard to conceal it. It wasn't like Kendall was incredibly oblivious. The truth was that James hadn't _wanted _him to know, and then suddenly he was shouting about how it had been too many days with too few apologies.

A tiny voice whispered in the back of Kendall's head that James must be high maintenance, which was why he was so hot and so available, and yet so damn difficult, but Kendall didn't think that was really it. There was something else going on, and Kendall was determined to find out what it was.

Even if James ended up right, and nothing else ended up happening between them, he still wanted to know. Which was a state of mind that Kendall wasn't used to. He was used to not really caring too much about anything that wasn't in the kitchen. Now the joke was on him, because his life had been in a state of chaos ever since he'd met James, and he still couldn't walk away.

It would have been easier, Kendall reflected miserably, skulking behind James as he pushed the cart through the restaurant supply store.

"I can practically hear you back there pouting," James said as he examined the list Kendall had compiled and compared it to the display of whisks before them.

It was a sad state of affairs that they could be in his personal heaven, and Kendall could barely even motivate himself to look at the tempting array of culinary tools in front of him.

"Are you going to let me pick out whisks?" James demanded when Kendall didn't answer. "Or are you going to do your job?"

Last night, when he'd pulled the quiche out of the oven, he'd stared at it, realizing he didn't want to eat it alone, even though when he'd decided to make it, he'd never even dreamt that James would show up at his door.

That was the problem with James. He burst in, and when he left, nothing was the same. There was a James-sized hole in the life that Kendall had always considered very satisfactory.

It wasn't fair, but it was the bed he had made, and now he had to deal with it. He ignored the fact that had he not sent that stupid email, they'd probably have enjoyed a meal together-possibly even more than one-last night as he reached over to the whisks and grabbed a handful without even really looking at them, tossing them into the cart.

James shook his head and did that cute little half eye roll that usually meant he wanted to do some big production of an eye roll, but decided it wasn't worth the energy.

"When we're making...Twinkies or dongs, or dings, or whatever the hell you bake," James said snidely, "and you need the _right _whisk for the job, I'm going to remind you of this moment, and how it's all your fault."

"Believe me, I'm sure I won't need that reminder." Kendall retorted fervently. "Probably because you'll never let me forget it."

"Only you," Jame said, pushing the cart forward with purpose, "would be annoyed I was pissed you didn't apologize after insulting me."

Kendall wanted to find the even keel of the last few days-when they'd compromised and even found a way to work together-but it was completely lost. Maybe it was the kissing. Maybe it had been the almost blowjob. Maybe it was the anger simmering right under the peaceful surface. But it wasn't going to go back to how it had been only yesterday. That much was obvious.

It wasn't right, but he silently blamed James. Maybe if he hadn't kept his fucking mouth shut that he was angry then Kendall would have apologized right away and prevented all this.

"Do we need anything else?" Kendall asked, and gave himself a gold star, because at least he was making an attempt to converse politely.

James leveled him an incredulous look. "It's _your _list."

"Yeah, but it's in _your _hands," Kendall retorted.

To Kendall's surprise, James did actually look down and review the list. "I think we've got it all. Oh no, wait, we need silicone molds still."

"Joy," Kendall muttered under his breath, even though silicone molds were usually something he really enjoyed.

If James ignored the comment, and instead pushed the cart over to the right aisle, then Kendall told himself they were definitely better off.

Fifteen minutes later, they were checked out and just about done packing the bags into James' small compact car.

"I have a lunch meeting," James said when they both got into the car, "but after, we can head over to your place and work all afternoon. That good with you?"

Kendall bit back a snide comment that he didn't really have a choice. He'd thought when he left the restaurant industry, his schedule would stop being dictated by someone else. It turned out that wasn't the case.

But instead of bitching, he nodded. There was some recipe research he could do while he waited for James. He'd planned on doing it last night, but after James left, he'd been in too much of a bad mood to do much of anything, including eating a slice of the quiche he'd been so excited over.

"Good." James sounded pleased with himself that he was back in control. Kendall didn't like it, but he also didn't know what to do about it.

They stopped by Kendall's apartment and unpacked the bags of supplies. Maybe James didn't want to fight anymore either, because by the time they made it to the Five Points office, the biting tension of earlier had been replaced by a frosty silence.

Kendall wasn't sure it was an improvement, but he also didn't know how to fix it. So he kept his head down and when James grabbed his laptop from the cubicle next door, Kendall acted like he wasn't even there.

When Stephanie found him an hour later, he was pretending to do recipe research, but instead knew he was just staring broodingly at the laptop screen.

"You look down," she said, and the kindness in her voice was so welcome, he couldn't help but turn towards it.

"Rough few days," Kendall admitted.

"We're heading over to the good coffee place down the street. You wanna come with?"

Stephanie hadn't ever invited him to accompany her and her kitchen minions before, but it was a no-brainer for Kendall to say yes. First, he loved the good coffee place. It was better in every way compared to the coffee cart downstairs. Second, Stephanie had worked at Five Points since the inception of the culinary department. Almost as long as James. Maybe she knew something about why he was so damn prickly.

Maybe he should have asked James himself, but Kendall figured he had already tried that last night, and while it had worked for a little while, James had eventually clammed up and then he'd run away.

"Oh yeah, I could definitely use a pick-me-up," Kendall said as he shut his laptop.

While they were waiting for the elevator to take them down to the ground floor, Stephanie looked over with a compassionate smile on her face.

"James running you ragged?" she asked, tucking a lock of hair behind one ear.

James had told him once that Dak had hired Stephanie a few years ago, when he'd struggled to handle both the kitchen management duties and the producing aspects of his job. Kendall had been surprised to learn that even with her efficiency and obvious skill set, she didn't have any formal culinary training.

"It's tough reconciling two visions for one show," Kendall said as they stepped on the elevator together.

Stephanie gave him a sympathetic grimace. "I can only imagine. James is pretty driven and usually very sure that his vision is the right one."

"Yeah," Kendall said awkwardly. He wanted to ask, but he also didn't want to go on record _asking_. "I didn't realize the extent of it until last night. I didn't know he'd started at Five Points as an intern."

"Oh yeah," Stephanie said as they stepped off. Her two assistants, Lucy and Camille, were waiting outside the building. Camille hadn't even taken her work apron off, and it was dotted with bright swatches of some sort of red berry mixture. "He surprised everyone, but I don't think he ever surprised himself. He always knew he'd get the producing job. The rest of us came on board a little later."

"Are you talking about James?" Camille piped up.

Lucy was lagging behind, typing something frantically on her phone.

"Her girlfriend," Stephanie whispered with a cute little smirk as she nudged her shoulder against Kendall's. "They're practically inseparable and very adorable."

"Yeah," Kendall said, at the same time that Stephanie said, "He's feeling a little overwhelmed by Steamroller James."

"Steamroller James?" Kendall's eyebrows raised and he hoped-_prayed_-that he wasn't breaking any sort of unspoken professional conduct to gossip about his producer outside of the office. But he was desperate for any sort of insider information he could use to convince James they were both on the same side. And also, that Kendall _didn't _dislike him, no matter what that email might have made James believe.

"I wouldn't go there if I were you," Lucy said, proving that while she'd been texting, she'd also been listening to the conversation. "You know he hates it when you call him that."

"_You're _the one who came up with the nickname," Camille said incredulously before turning to Kendall. "Rumor has it if you get in his way, and you won't get out of it, he'll absolutely steamroll you."

Three sets of eyes turned towards Kendall as they entered the coffee shop, and he threw up his hands. "Ladies, let me get some caffeine first."

Unfortunately, he didn't get much of a reprieve, as there was actually nobody in line.

When he ordered a muffin with his coffee, Stephanie leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Don't get the banana walnut, get the white chocolate cranberry. Trust me."

He was picking at the wrapper, waiting for his cappuccino when Camille and Lucy came up to him.

"So," Camille started, "is he really as hard to work with as I'm imagining?"

"It's not that hard," Kendall said, which was sort of a lie, but he also wasn't going to throw James under the bus when he himself was part of the reason things were difficult and especially with the kitchen staff already calling him Steamroller James. "It's actually nice to work with someone who has a passion for the details, for making sure that you're as successful as you can be." And that _was _true, and Kendall hadn't realized it was until this moment when he'd had to find something good to say.

"You can't tell me that him wanting to always be right is easy," Lucy piped in.

They had him there.

"No," he admitted. "It isn't always easy."

"You know why he has to be right. He's always trying to prove that him getting hired full time wasn't some fluke," Lucy said.

Kendall frowned. "Why would it be? He got an internship and got offered a job because he worked hard."

Stephanie approached, carrying a paper pastry bag. "He didn't tell you?"

It felt like everyone knew something that Kendall didn't, and he was suddenly, blindingly sure that what everyone knew that he didn't was something vital.

"I don't know what he hasn't told me," Kendall said flatly. He shouldn't feel embarrassed that James hadn't confided much of anything about his job history, even though they were supposed to be working closely together, but he was.

"It's okay," Camille said, laying a sympathetic hand on his arm. "He's just so private. I'm not surprised he didn't tell you."

"What, that he's an ax murderer? That he's secretly hoarding chicken nuggets in his apartment?" Kendall retorted.

"I'm just surprised he mentioned the internship and didn't tell you that it's an internship exclusively for foster kids who've been able to attend college," Stephanie said softly.

"Foster kids?" Kendall couldn't believe that James wouldn't have told him that he'd been a foster child, but it made sense that he hadn't. When had Kendall ever been receptive to that sort of confession? Before or after he'd told him he hated his face?

"He tried to pretend that he didn't get the internship because of that," Lucy said. "I guess because he's ashamed of it or whatever."

"Luce," Stephanie admonished softly, "we've talked about this. Whatever reasons why James doesn't talk about his past are his own." She turned to Kendall. "But I did think you should know, since I didn't think he'd tell you himself."

"I appreciate it," Kendall said. He'd rather have heard it from James himself, but he had a feeling that would have been a long time coming-or not at all. And this felt like the big break that he'd been waiting for; the mysterious information that James had been holding back that Kendall had desperately needed to understand how and why he ticked.

"I know it doesn't seem like it," Stephanie said apologetically, "but I _do _encourage those two," she gestured to where Lucy and Camille were picking up their coffee, "not to gossip about everyone. Especially James. He doesn't like it, and frankly, neither do I."

"It hasn't been easy, working with him," Kendall said, finally breaking down and admitting the truth. "We've been struggling."

"He _can_ be intense and hard to work with, but he's also a really great person, funny and smart and irreverent. You just have to break through his shell."

Kendall didn't want to tell Stephanie that mostly all he'd done since arriving at Five Points was do things to reinforce James' shell. For example, that email had given it pretty much bulletproof coating, and he was still trying to figure out how to de-militarize it.

"I'm working on it," was all he could say. He didn't want to admit that a lot of the struggle was his own fundamental misunderstanding of the situation on day one, and how he'd acted like an unprofessional ass since then. He was trying to change, to start over, but he was beginning to think there was no way to do that-all he could do was try to move forward and be better.

And then Kendall went and got really stupid.

"But you don't have to sell him to me," he said, not even recognizing that conspiratorial edge to his low voice, "I really like him. Even if he can be tough to work with sometimes."

Unfortunately, Stephanie understood exactly what he meant. Kendall almost wished she was a little less sharp on the uptake.

"I thought you might," she admitted. "When we walked in yesterday, I could feel...undercurrents."

No matter what Stephanie might say about gossip, he knew it happened. It happened everywhere, at every workplace. It had even happened at Terroir, despite Massimo Bottura's notoriously hardcore anti-gossip policy. And nothing got people talking quite like a juicy workplace romance.

James was definitely going to kill him.

So much for starting over and trying to be better every day.

"Ah, well, you know. Adversarial relationships and all," Kendall tried to joke, but the look Stephanie shot him made it very clear she understood exactly what was going on and no amount of denial of _just kidding! _was going to convince her otherwise.

"We picked up your coffee!" Camille said to Kendall as she and Lucy walked back to where he and Stephanie were standing. "We're all ready to go."

"Oh good," Kendall said, glancing at his watch and realizing he was about to be five minutes late to meet his _adversarial relationship_, "because I'm about to be late."

XxX

"You're late," James said, head bent towards his screen, fingers not missing a beat as he typed furiously.

"I know, I'm sorry, I thought I'd grab a coffee." Kendall slid into the chair next to James, but James still didn't look up.

"Oh, thanks for bringing me one too," James said levelly, even though he had to know that Kendall only had one cup in his hands.

"I...uh...didn't know you wanted one?" Kendall said sheepishly. He'd made it back into the building two minutes late, and then had raced to James' cubicle, only to find him not there. He'd made the rounds, until one of the writers stopped him and said James was in the conference room, still working after the meeting had ended.

Why hadn't it occurred to Kendall to bring him coffee? He liked the good coffee place just as much as anyone else. It was probably because instead of actively trying to charm anyone in particular, Kendall just fell into bed with willing people and had never wanted someone who didn't want him back-or wanted him but fought it. Kendall knew he was going to have to learn to be more aware and less selfish if he was ever going to convince James to consider dating him. A great almost-blowjob wasn't going to cut it. Not with James.

Sex was probably off the table now, even though Kendall knew James wanted it. Kendall wasn't familiar with the sort of self-denial James practiced; if he wanted someone and the feeling was mutual, sex happened. It was an easy way to live, and an easy way to get off. Everything about James was complicated, but Kendall wanted him anyway. Inexplicably.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring you coffee," Kendall said when James remained silent, typing away, the staccato of the keys all the response he probably deserved.

"It's okay." James paused. "I wouldn't expect you to be looking out for other people. Me, especially."

And yeah, that was galling. Especially galling when Kendall had spent the last half hour discovering that nobody had probably ever looked out for James before. It probably wouldn't take an extraordinary amount of effort to make him feel special and considered and cared for. And Kendall _still _couldn't figure out how to meet even the lowest of expectations.

"I'm sorry, I'm...I know it isn't an excuse, but I was with Stephanie, and Lucy and Camille and…" Kendall hesitated, trying to find the best way to say, _sorry, we were gossiping about you and they told me you were a foster kid and I wish you had told me yourself._

All Kendall knew was that was definitely not the way to break the news.

Turned out he didn't have to.

"And they told you all about me and my past, I'm sure." James' voice was still painfully level. It was like he'd hidden every emotion behind some very high, very thick wall, and Kendall, who thought maybe he'd been making at least a little bit of progress, struggled not to feel disheartened.

"Yeah, that was something they mentioned. And when they did, I couldn't help but wish you'd told me yourself. Just last night we were talking about how you started here, and you didn't mention it."

James' head snapped up, and Kendall recoiled at the fire blazing in his eyes. "Why? So you could figure out how I worked? How to manipulate me better? I'm sorry, but that's personal information and I don't just share it with anyone."

"I'm not just anyone," Kendall insisted. He could feel himself stepping onto unsure, potentially dangerous ground, but he was so tired of James retreating. This time he wasn't going to let him; he was going to chase after him.

"Right. I must have missed the memo where you were anything more than the talent I'm supposed to be producing," James said, and Kendall realized his voice wasn't cold, it was hot with anger. And maybe that wasn't the best emotion for him to be expressing, but it was something, better than cold indifference, and Kendall was so sick of beating against that cold wall.

"We kissed, I had my mouth on your dick!" Kendall couldn't help but exclaim.

"Yeah, that turned out so well," James retorted.

Kendall shot to his feet, frustration spreading through him. He knew he needed to keep his temper in check, because letting it run wild hadn't gotten him anywhere. But James pushed every single button of his like he owned them.

"It's not like I forced you to kiss me. That was _your _choice. _You _did that, and you can't take it back."

"I keep telling you I am!" James' voice was rising, and now he'd stood and Kendall had a sudden deja vu of their argument in the break room before he'd gone running off to Napa.

"Your words sort of lose their effect when your hand was in my hair and your dick was literally in my mouth," Kendall snarled.

"Good thing all I have to do with that is remember that fucking email you wrote to me, and I'm as soft as I've ever been," James said bitterly.

"What email?"

Kendall whipped his head towards the doorway and the new voice. Dak was standing in the entrance to the conference room, arms crossed across his chest, and he looked confused and determined and also definitely a little pissed off.

"Now look at what you've done," James hissed. "Can't keep your mouth shut for five seconds put together."

Kendall couldn't believe James was blaming _him_. After all, James had been the one to bring up the email this time.

"What email?" Dak demanded when neither Kendall nor James answered his question. He turned towards James. "I knew things weren't going well, but I didn't know you'd reached the point of sending nasty emails or yelling at each other in the conference room."

"It's not...I mean, it's sort of…" James paused, trying to compose himself. "I was handling it."

"By not telling me," Dak said sternly.

"It's my fault, sir," Kendall spoke up. He didn't think he'd called anyone but Massimo Bottura _sir _in his whole career, but right now, Dak was almost as scary as his ex-boss.

Dak frowned, his expression morphing between annoyed and overwhelming frustration.

"I don't remember saying it wasn't your fault." His gaze fell back on James. "What I don't get it why you would keep it a secret, James."

Kendall could hear James grinding his teeth from a few feet away. "I told you, I was handling it. I dealt with it. _Was _dealing with it."

Dak's expression softened, even as James forged ahead, and Kendall realized as he listened to one excuse after another that he'd never heard James caught up in indecisive rambling before. He'd always known what to say before this moment.

"I was pretty sure it didn't mean anything, and we were getting past it...I _thought _I was getting past it...and I am, I know it didn't mean anything. I know Kendall didn't really mean it. He was drunk and stupid and well, really, really stupid. You know when someone says something mean and you know they aren't saying it because they believe it, but because they don't know what else to say? That's how it felt. It was all there between the lines. And the grammar mistakes. And the spelling errors."

Kendall could tell that James didn't really believe half the stuff that was coming out of his mouth right then, but he didn't know what else to say, and he only stopped his rambling because Dak held up a single hand.

"Can I read this email before I decide it was nothing?"

"No," Kendall and James both answered at the same time.

Dak looked surprised. Kendall thought he really shouldn't have been.

"It's private," James said stubbornly.

"Like James said, I was drunk and really stupid. Incurably stupid. And I said some stuff I'm not proud of, but I also said some stuff...it is sort of private," Kendall added, under no delusion that his stupid drunk words could still remain between him and James.

Dak was going to find out that he really hated James' face, and really loved his ass in the tight khakis he wore. Basically, Kendall was going to have to move back to Napa because he was never going to get over the shame of it. Every time he saw Dak-his _boss_ and also, ex-owner of Hansens and a culinary god-Kendall was going to have a nightmare flashback to his stupid drunk words.

Kendall thought he'd explored all the humiliation he possibly could when James had read that email. Unfortunately, there were still embarrassing depths to which he could plunge.

"I want to read it. Now." Dak's tone brooked no disagreement, but James still opened his mouth to keep arguing. Kendall elbowed him hard in the side.

"Give it up," he hissed under his breath. "There's no point."

"I deleted it," James said anyway.

"All this time you were so _subtly _blackmailing me with it. That god-awful marketing meeting. Compromising! Joan of Arc Julia Child! And you fucking _deleted _it?!" The outraged words leapt out of Kendall's mouth before he could stop them.

James turned towards him, shock written all over his features. "Are you insane?!" he hissed.

Dak only shook his head. In disgust or frustration, it was hard to tell.

"You." Dak pointed to Kendall. "You still have it. You sent it after all. I want you to forward it to me, and then join me in my office in ten minutes." He turned and walked out, leaving no room for arguments, and Kendall at a loss for words.

"Go delete it right now. I don't know how, just do it," James hissed.

"I really think we've made this bed and we have to lie in it," Kendall said, realizing a little too late that he shouldn't be using phrases that had the word _bed _in them. At least he hadn't said they'd made their kitchen counter and now they had to lie on it.

James threw his hands up in frustration. "Do you really want your _boss _to read that email? Really? I thought you had an ounce of self-preservation. Because I definitely do not want _my _boss to read that email."

"Trust me, I don't. But I'm not showing up in his office telling him I just deleted it. That would be worse than him reading it."

James shot him a look. "Are you sure about that?"

Kendall's resolve crumbled a little. "Not entirely."

"Then go delete it. This is your fault. Therefore, it's your job to fix it."

"What if it can't be fixed?" Kendall said, because he couldn't help but think that. Maybe he'd fucked up this situation beyond solving.

James rounded on him, as fierce and angry as he'd ever been. "_Everything _can be fixed."

Kendall didn't think he could agree, but he also felt sick and every second he and James kept fighting over this made him feel worse. It was impossible not to see James' words through the frame of knowledge he'd just learned about how he'd grown up alone and unwanted.

The one thing he knew was that he wasn't going to delete that email. Would it be humiliation heaped upon embarrassment for Dak to read it? Absolutely. But there was a sort of poetic justice to the automatic cringe that Kendall felt every time he thought about it. He shouldn't have written it, and he definitely shouldn't have ever sent it. He should have apologized the morning James showed up in Napa to drag his hungover ass home. And while he hated dragging James down with him and probably destroying every chance of a possible future for them, everything that came after this was payback for all those mistakes.

* * *

**Done! So...yeah, looks like that email has come back to haunt them both. **

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed and that you all are having a great week so far! The next chapter of this probably won't be up until next week sometime.**

**Until then! :D**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hello again everyone! Welcome back to Explosive! :D**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, Guest, Side1ways, annabellex2, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

James knew the moment he walked into Dak's office that Kendall hadn't done as requested and deleted the email. Dak's face said it all. James knew he should've watched Kendall delete it instead of escaping to the bathroom to try to compose himself for the lecture to come.

Because even if Kendall had deleted it, James knew they were both in for a lecture the likes of which he'd never seen. Dak had a fierce temper, and even if he'd never seen it, he'd heard terrifying stories about it. Until this clusterfuck of a situation, James had been more than a model employee-he could even say he'd been Dak's best employee. His friend, even. There'd never been a single excuse for Dak to unleash his infamous temper.

Until now.

"James, sit down." Dak's voice was deadly calm, but James could also see the awkwardness in his expression. Yeah, he'd definitely read all about how Kendall hated his face, and how much he appreciated the tight khakis James favored.

James did as he was instructed because in the bathroom he'd come to mostly the same conclusion as Kendall: it was pointless to keep fighting this. It was going to happen.

"I've read this email," Dak said, still very calm. Too calm, as far as James was concerned. "I'm not very happy about it."

"I'm sorry, I can't apologize enough," Kendall cut in, but Dak shot him a single, deadly look and he shut up fast. James wished he could recreate that look and get those same kinds of results. But it turned out that Kendall had more self-preservation than James had ever imagined he did.

"Do you know why I backed James and hired you?" Dak asked.

"Because I was good?" Kendall said.

James barely held back a bitter chuckle. Kendall had no idea how good he was. Or how fucked.

Dak leaned forward on the desk, his muscular forearms distracting but the look in his dark eyes was intense enough it was tough to even look at his arms.

"I hired you because I believed you were a professional. That you'd started Pastry by Kendall even though you were working at Terroir because you wanted more. That you were willing to work your ass off and sacrifice whatever it took to make sure you got more. That's why I promoted James specifically to produce your show. Because he's always, ever since he started here, done exactly that-gone after _more_. And I thought this drive would unite you, but all it's done is divide you. And that's a damn fucking shame."

James swallowed hard. He'd thought the exact same thing, once. He still wanted to believe it was possible, that they weren't doomed to fail, but the further they got down this angry, bitter, vindictive road, the more out of reach success felt.

Part of this was his own fault. But fault seemed so petty right now when everything they'd built individually was threatening to fall around them.

"Apologies don't seem adequate, but that's all I have. And a promise to do better. To be better. To work with James better." Kendall certainly sounded earnest, and James realized that was part of his charm. You genuinely wanted to believe him, even when you knew he would probably fail to deliver. That was definitely James' fault; he kept believing and kept letting himself be seduced into certainty when nothing was certain.

"That's something." Dak, on the other hand, did not sound particularly convinced. He was a hard guy to win over, though, which was something James had always liked about him. And _still _liked about him, even though that particular trait was probably going to be enough to torpedo James' continued employment at Five Points.

"James?" Dak continued. "Do you have anything to say?"

What did you even say when you'd been saying too much from the first moment? James didn't know.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you about it earlier," James said. "But I think we can still make this work." That was mostly a lie, but James had always been a great liar. He didn't like lying to Dak, because he'd always respected him so much, but some things were more vital than honesty.

James had _just_ clawed his way up to this point. He'd worked his ass off. He wasn't going to lose everything he'd worked for now over a little dishonesty.

"What I want to see," Dak said, "is a test. Proof of you two actually working together towards something. I want evidence. I want something I can watch and I can see how it's going to work if Five Points moves ahead and buys into this show for a season of episodes. Right now, I can't see that happening. But if you prove to me that you can, then you'll have my full support."

"You want a screen test?" James asked and he couldn't help but sound dubious. Kendall was not ready for a screen test. _James _wasn't ready for a screen test.

"I want proof." Dak sounded solidly convinced. He was probably not going to be convinced by whatever footage they could cobble together.

James felt the death knell of all his hopes. He and Dak had agreed when Kendall signed that screen tests wouldn't be necessary because he already had on-camera experience and his rapport with the camera was fantastic.

"Okay," Kendall said, and he sounded so sure and so casually okay with the challenge that Dak had presented to them, James felt a little sick. Didn't he know what they were getting themselves into? Didn't he care about the amount of work he'd just committed himself to? "You'll get your proof. I promise."

XxX

"Are you insane?" James hissed at Kendall as they walked down the hall from Dak's office. It didn't even feel like the first time he'd asked this exact same question this exact same way in nearly the exact same spot.

And didn't that just say it all?

Kendall shot him a look like maybe he was the crazy one, but there was no way that was the case.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this here," Kendall said softly.

He had a good point, but James wasn't feeling magnanimous enough to admit it. Instead, he pointed towards the big double doors that led to the elevator bay. Wordlessly, Kendall followed James to their cubicles, and they packed up their laptops. James also grabbed his big folder of filming notes, and they decamped from the office, walking the few scant blocks to the apartment building they shared.

Kendall unlocked his door, and the first thing he said, when they were finally alone, was, "Are you hungry? I've got lots of quiche from last night."

James decided the question he'd asked earlier still applied even in locations that weren't the hallway outside of Dak's office.

"Food? _That's _what you want to talk about right now?" James' voice was inching upwards, both in volume and in pitch. It was a testament to how upset he was that he didn't even try to stop the inevitable.

They'd been on the cusp of a huge blowout in the conference room, and Dak had merely interrupted them. Maybe if they finished the fight, they could buckle down and finally get some work done.

But Kendall shot James an incredulous look, and after setting his laptop on the kitchen counter, walked right over to the fridge and opened the door.

"Okay, I guess we do need to talk about food," James admitted, which was not easy for him to do. "Not whatever happened in here last night. Not your fuckups. Not my hang-ups. We need to figure out how to convince Dak."

Kendall flipped the oven on and slid the pie plate, suspiciously full, into the oven.

Maybe Kendall hadn't been able to eat either, after James had left. James had ended up with a liquid dinner, comprised of whatever remaining wine he had left in his apartment, followed by a shot of vodka from his freezer, and a restless, mostly sleepless night, punctuated by sudden and annoying bouts of accidentally turning himself on by dwelling on what had nearly happened.

"It's not going to be that hard," Kendall said.

James didn't even know what to say. "You _did_ hear him, right? He wasn't lying. He will absolutely need to be convinced. And I know Dak. That isn't going to be easy."

"No, it won't be easy. But he picked me for a reason, and he picked you for a reason. Those reasons haven't changed. We just need to figure out how to make those reasons work together a little better." Kendall's gaze slid to the counter. "You know him better than I do. You know how this all works better than I do. So...tell me what to do."

"You're really giving me control over this whole thing?" James couldn't believe after all these weeks of fighting and clawing each other, Kendall was just going to hand the power over without a single word of argument.

But Kendall shrugged. "I can't go back to Napa a failure. I can't go back to restaurants if this doesn't work out. So it needs to work out."

James didn't need another word to convince him.

"Okay," he said, flipping open his big folder stuffed full of notes. "Let's start."

"Food first," Kendall said. "I've had too much caffeine followed by too much adrenaline. I'm all shaky."

"Fine." The food smelled good, almost better than it had last night, so James wasn't going to exactly complain if Kendall wanted to feed him.

"Also," Kendall said, fidgeting with the frayed edge of a kitchen towel. "I need to apologize. _Really _apologize," he continued when James opened his mouth to say that an apology wasn't necessary. "I was an asshole. I was insensitive. I was thoughtless. And I'm beginning to realize that some of those things aren't new. For that, I'm sorry. I'm going to be respectful from now on. The professional I promise you I can be."

"Apology accepted." James figured if they dealt with this, then maybe they could move on. And maybe he should take advantage of Kendall's sudden contrition to set up some ground rules. "But if you're really serious, let's write down some ground rules." He opened his notebook to a blank page. "Rule number one, I think is pretty self-explanatory. No kissing."

Kendall opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again. James was unpleasantly reminded of everything he could do with that mouth before he pushed those thoughts right out of his mind. Remembering kissing Kendall and Kendall kissing him was not going to get them a full-season pickup.

"Rule number two. No sex."

Kendall didn't even react to that.

"Rule number three. No arguments," Kendall added.

James lifted an eyebrow. "No arguing? You must really have had a change of heart in Dak's office."

"Not just Dak's office," Kendall admitted. "I went to grab coffee with Stephanie and when she told me about the circumstances surrounding your internship, I realized just how insensitive I've been, when this means everything to you. It means everything to me, too. And I can stop arguing if it means we can save everything we've worked for."

James felt everything go hot and then cold inside him. Ice cold. Like an ice floe in Antarctica. It hadn't come as a surprise that Stephanie had told Kendall about his past. Her heart was in the right place and she had probably been trying to help, because rumors were flying fast and thick in the office that he and Kendall weren't getting along. Stephanie must have believed that she could assist by clueing Kendall in, because normally she didn't encourage gossip.

James was still monumentally pissed off that she'd opened her mouth, and he was definitely going to tell her that when he saw her next. They'd known each other and worked together for years now, and he expected better from her. Not for her to sell him and his secrets out to Kendall.

"It's nothing," James said coldly. "It's less than nothing. Forget what she told you. It's not important."

"It _is _important," Kendall argued, heat flashing in his eyes, frustration and admiration and galling sympathy. "I think-"

James ripped off the notebook page and stomped over to the fridge. He hung it on the fridge with one of the silly magnets Kendall must have brought. This one was a brightly colored neon lobster.

"Rule number three," He stated, pointing to the rule he'd written in his neat handwriting.

Kendall's eyebrows slanted with annoyance and everything he was holding back, but he remained silent, letting the quiet grow until the beep of the oven timer interrupted his pouting and James' cold shoulder.

"Eat," was all Kendall said as he slid a wedge of quiche over on a plate, a fork balance on the edge. "You've got to keep your energy up, and you look tired."

James wanted to retort something spiteful, but he buried the spike of heat under the cold wall of ice surrounding him, and merely looked pointedly over at the list on the fridge.

Kendall didn't reply, he merely walked over to the fridge and scrawled something under the third rule.

"Rule number four," he announced, "sarcastic retorts are banned."

"Fine by me," James said, even though he felt a pulse of disappointment at losing the banter he'd actually enjoyed trading with Kendall.

It didn't matter anyway. Only one thing mattered now. Not fucking this up again.

"First," he said, between big bites of the quiche he didn't really taste, "I want you to go through the cookie recipe again. That's what we'll do for the test. It's the easiest recipe on the list."

There was a mutinous jut to Kendall's jaw but he nodded, and James watched as he began to assemble his ingredients.

He was right. He had to be right. There was no more room for error.

* * *

Kendall watched as James ate his quiche and didn't even taste it, then pushed it aside only half-finished. He pressed his lips together and told himself that it didn't matter if this felt all kinds of wrong; it was what James wanted.

Or at least what he'd told himself he wanted, though that was a distinction that even Kendall could acknowledge didn't matter anymore.

"I made notes last time we baked these cookies," James said.

As always, Kendall's gut reaction was to correct, to snark just so James could snark back. A stupid petty correction that he could use to flirt with the other man. But this time, he kept his mouth shut, even though technically, _they _hadn't baked anything. Kendall had baked these cookies by himself and James had watched-and also, if Kendall was being _really_ honest, drove him insane. With sexual frustration. With desire. With need.

"I bet there isn't much time for me to teach you how to make them," Kendall said, and sue him, he sounded regretful because he really was. The best afternoon he'd spent in forever had been the one when he'd taught James how to make pain au chocolat.

That was the afternoon when Kendall discovered that maybe teaching other people how to back might not be too terrible.

James leveled him an annoyed look, frosted cold at the edges. "Both of us know that wasn't a serious offer. I'm not here to learn how to cook, and you're not here to teach me."

He was right, but the truth still stung.

Kendall turned back to the counter where he'd been assembling everything to make sure he had everything he needed.

"We need to finalize the recipe today," James said. "So no crazy experimentation, please."

It was only all those hard years of being shit on by head chefs in kitchens that kept him even-keeled and calm when he nodded. "I'm going to do a quarter dark chocolate, and three-quarters semi-sweet," he said. "That should balance out the bitterness nicely. And I'm swapping white sugar for brown."

James' sharp nod of acknowledgment shouldn't have hurt, but it did.

It didn't matter, though. Kendall refused to be the one responsible for killing off James' chances at a successful production of this show. James had worked so hard for it, and it wasn't fair for him to lose his shot because Kendall was a careless jerk who couldn't keep his fingers under control when he got drunk.

The afternoon passed by achingly slow. James didn't question every decision Kendall made, he only wanted solid, unchanging ones. And every question was polite, painstakingly professional and about zero degrees.

Kendall hated every minute of it. In his fantasies, he might have dreamed about an afternoon just baking and hanging out in his place, and it was glorious. The reality was so much different and so much worse.

Third batch pulled out of the oven, Kendall tested a cookie and gave a shrug when James asked if this was finally the real recipe.

"You can't tell me you don't know," James said, and for the first time, his frustration felt warmer. Hotter. Like James was just as on edge as Kendall, he'd just buried it under so much ice that it took time to melt and show through.

"They taste good." Kendall shrugged again, because if James didn't get it now, he probably never would. Kendall had sworn that James was close to understanding what drove him, but maybe after everything, it was safer to assume James didn't give a shit. "They taste really good, even, but perfection can't be rushed."

"Perfection," James said through clenched lips, "is not what we're aiming for here. We're aiming for good enough."

It felt like something inside Kendall died a little with James' words. He had to turn back to the cooling rack, fussing uselessly with the warm cookies, so James wouldn't see his devastated expression.

"I didn't work so hard as a chef so I could skate by on good enough," Kendall said softly.

"Well, this certainly isn't what _I _worked so hard for either," James snapped. "We're all settling here."

It shouldn't have hurt more, but somehow it did. It burned, in a way that none of James' other snarky retorts had ever hurt before. Kendall turned from the stove and wrenched open the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Pinot Blanc that he'd been saving for a special occasion.

He opened it with quick, efficient movements, and for a brief second, considered not even bothering with a wine glass, just dumping it into his empty water glass, but that felt wrong. Disrespectful of the wine and the effort the winemakers had put into crafting it. So he walked across the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and poured the wine.

"Really?" James snapped. "You're drinking? Don't you think alcohol has gotten us into enough trouble?"

"You want a glass?" Kendall asked, because even though he _had _sent the email while drunk, it wasn't like James hadn't also used the excuse of a glass of good Cabernet Sauvignon to do something crazy. "Or are you afraid you'll kiss me again?"

James' lips compressed together, and he looked angry. The angriest he'd looked since the afternoon had started.

"I told you," he said stiffly, "that won't be repeated. It doesn't matter what I drink."

"Then you should try a glass of this. It's special," Kendall said, giving the glass a fancy little twirl and watching the golden liquid swirl around the crystal.

James made a face, but still went to get a glass from the cupboard, and poured himself a scant quarter of a glass.

"What?" He retorted when Kendall shot him a questioning look. "One of us has to stay sober."

"I can bake drunk, sober, it doesn't matter. You're the one who needs something to loosen up," Kendall said, even though he knew what he was risking by saying it out loud.

"I like who I am sober just fine," James said, but he didn't even _sound _convincing.

But it didn't matter. Kendall had promised he would abide by the three rules-now four rules-hanging on the fridge. Drinking wasn't technically on the list, though it would inevitably lead to breaking one, or all of them probably, but it might also make James more bearable to be around during this exercise in torture.

Kendall took another bite of cookie, and suddenly it didn't matter so much. It didn't feel like life or death if the batter had another eighth of a teaspoon of salt, or he slightly changed the proportions of dark to semi-sweet chocolate or if he substituted more white sugar for the brown.

"Final recipe," he said, and he tried to ignore James' triumphant expression.

He was supposed to be giving James what he wanted, right? All of this done exactly the way he wanted it. But Kendall felt hollow. Uninspired. More like quitting today than he'd felt since this whole thing started.

All it took to squash that particular bug was the thought of James' face if he gave up and let Pastry by Kendall fall apart.

James' fingers flew across the keyboard, as sure as they'd ever been. And something about James' certainty helped Kendall believe at least a little bit that they were doing the right thing, taking the right path.

"There, recipe submitted to testing." James glanced up. "That's Stephanie's minions, in case you didn't know."

"I didn't realize they were going to be testing the screen test recipe." Maybe if Kendall had, he would've made another batch, tried another hunch. He didn't want to talk big with his impressive resume, and then fall pathetically short.

"It isn't a requirement," James said, "but I thought it would seem pretty dumb to pass the screen test, but not have the recipe tested. Besides, Dak knows when faced with a challenge, I like to go above and beyond. He'll probably expect this, on some subconscious level."

Kendall grabbed a plate from the cupboard, slid two cookies onto it, and pushed it in James' direction. He ignored it, which was a doubly unpleasant reminder; _one_, he didn't like sweets, and _two_, that it didn't matter to him how the cookie actually tasted.

"What's next?" Kendall asked, draining the glass of wine. If he had to stand here for another minute and watch James type furiously on his laptop, he was going to go out of his mind.

"Remember the wing wang?" James asked absently.

"The _what_?"

James' eyes shot up to Kendall's face. "The Ding Dong, or whatever it was that you called it."

"I remember it. I didn't think we were going that direction."

"We're not. We're going to practice filming, and because we have no equipment, we're going to have to be resourceful. Now where's that ficus you used last time? It'll be steadier than my hands and we're going to want to take this footage apart to make sure you're perfect. It'll be that much harder with the camera jerking all around."

Kendall shook his head incredulously and went to grab the ficus from his bedroom. As he dragged it to the kitchen, he realized that James had helped furnish this apartment. He'd known exactly where the ficus was and just didn't want to talk about Kendall's bedroom. Or _go _into Kendall's bedroom.

He didn't think anyone had ever wanted him so much yet spent so much time and energy avoiding the subject of sex. It was a fascinating dichotomy that should have frustrated him enough to kill any interest Kendall felt, but instead, it was doing the opposite. This quirk of James' made Kendall hunt like a detective for any clues, verbal or otherwise, that gave away just how much he wanted. And each discovery was sweeter than if it had been freely admitted.

Kendall didn't want to think about what this said about his emotional hang-ups.

James had already pulled the duct tape from the supply closet it was stashed in, and he pulled out a GoPro camera from his laptop bag.

"Where'd that come from?" Kendall's asked as he pulled the ficus into place opposite the big kitchen island.

"The extreme sports department,"

Kendall frowned. "I thought it was just that one guy, and you said he'd been dropped too many times on his head."

"He has." James paused, checking the angle of the camera. "He won't even realize I borrowed this."

The problem was Kendall couldn't help but grudgingly admire James' determination to get shit done. He was pretty sure they had that in common. That much Dak was dead right on.

If only they could figure out how to align their priorities and stop fighting each other, they could run the world.

"Get behind the island," James ordered. "I want to check the angle of the camera."

Kendall did as ordered, as James made a few minute adjustments.

"Now what?" Kendall asked.

"Now, you make those cookies again." James paused and Kendall wondered if he could make that other set of adjustments he'd wanted to, and if James would even notice. "And you make them _exactly _the same. No creative wanderings."

"Just make the cookies?" Kendall leaned on the counter. He knew from how many editing hours he'd spent on Pastry by Kendall videos that he had a not-insignificant charm factor when he stood like this. James didn't even blink, he just went right back to his laptop, moving it so he was aligned right behind the camera. Seeing everything it saw.

_Maybe_, he couldn't help but think, _I'm losing my touch_.

Something he'd considered ever since he'd walked into the Five Points offices and hadn't been able to see eye to eye with the hot producer.

"Make the damn cookies, Kendall." James' voice was cold and hard as steel.

So he made the damn cookies. Again.

* * *

**Done! So, yeah, looks like Kames have their work cut out for them.**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed and that you all are having a great week so far! The next chapter of this most likely won't be up until next week sometime.**

**Until then!**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Hello again everyone! New chapter alert! :D**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, RainbowDiamonds, Side1ways, Guest, and annabellex2 for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

James knew what the problem was going to be before they even reviewed the footage. Kendall was a natural behind a camera, usually relaxed and jovial, even self-deprecating when the situation called for it. His appeal had been one of the more persuasive arguments that had sold Dak on him when James had first shown him Pasty by Kendall videos.

The other persuasive argument had been that they wouldn't need to spend weeks or months getting Kendall comfortable in front of a camera. He wouldn't need a single ounce of training because he'd already given himself the best training regimen he could-tons and tons of experience.

But that was before, and this was after-though before and after what, specifically, James didn't want to think about-now everything had suddenly changed.

Kendall was stiff and awkward on the first video. He spends a lot of time second-guessing both his words and his actions. Even worse, he kept directing hesitant, almost questioning glances at the camera, like he was asking James if he was doing the right thing.

This was not the Pastry by Kendall superstar that James had been ready to finish molding.

James was at a complete loss. He didn't even want to look at Kendall, currently elbow-deep in sudsy water, washing dishes, because then Kendall might know how bad things were, and that would make them even worse. He was self-conscious now, but he wasn't aware of it yet. As soon as he became aware of it, it would be even more pointed.

"Was it that bad?" Kendall asked from over at his spot at the sink.

James didn't know how he could've given it away, but he was pretty certain that Kendall hadn't even looked over at him the whole time he'd been watching the video, and he certainly hadn't admitted anything out loud.

"I don't know what you mean," James lied.

"You're totally silent over there. Which means you're either plotting some sort of world takeover bid, or how to tell me that all my other episodes were a fluke."

James had been definitely worried about the screen test before, because he and Kendall saw eye to eye on so little, but when they'd come back to Kendall's place, he'd suddenly become an acquiescent stranger. James had begun to think that maybe they could pull this off after all, mostly resting on Kendall's natural charisma in front of the camera.

And now even that had deserted them.

"They weren't flukes," James said, but he wasn't even convincing himself.

The tense line of Kendall's back as he scrubbed cookie sheets was proof enough that James definitely wasn't convincing him.

"It's been a long day. Hell, it's been a long _week_," James said. "You're tired. I'm tired. This is a lot of stress. A few more practice run-throughs and the kinks will work themselves out."

Later that night, James lay awake in bed, promising to himself that he'd told Kendall the truth. He'd been so vigilant when he'd picked the talent he wanted to produce for the first time. He'd followed what felt like hundreds of food bloggers. He'd done research for months. He'd narrowed and winnowed and made at least a dozen pro-and-con lists. He'd kept coming back to Pastry by Kendall for a reason, and that reason had to be more than how cute Kendall was when he smiled, eyes crinkling and so damn bright. It had to be more than when James had seen him for the very first time, he'd felt it deep down, right in the gut. More than just that he'd sworn to himself that one day he'd find a way to meet Kendall Knight.

It had to be more because James had staked everything on his career, and he'd staked his career on Kendall. But lying awake, sleepless as the hours ticked by, James couldn't help but wonder if he had been wrong this whole time.

* * *

The next day, James worked both of them like the devil, like a man terrified he was going to waste a single moment of time.

_Thirteen times_, Kendall thought sluggishly as he leaned against the counter, not even caring if it was his good side or if he was laid out seductively. He didn't think he could bring himself to stand up.

Despite what James had promised him the day before, and that Kendall had sworn to himself that he'd deliver if it killed him, the kinks had _not _worked themselves out.

Kendall got more comfortable, and he'd developed a decent patter as he prepared the cookies, but there was no spontaneity, no life. No _zing_. He knew he felt annoyed and stifled at the man who stared coldly and calculatingly at the camera as he performed. Even when he worked his ass off to forget James' existence, Kendall couldn't find the spark that had come as natural to him as breathing from the first Pastry by Kendall video he'd recorded.

Even the stupid Ding Dong video he'd filmed to get back at James on their second day was better than the thirteenth run-through of the chocolate peanut butter cookies.

"Maybe we should just use the Ding Dong video," Kendall said. "I bet you some people would even find it funny."

James' expression said it all. He didn't find it funny and couldn't comprehend of anyone who would. And that, Kendall thought, was the root of the problem. James couldn't unclench for five seconds and fucking _relax_, and his goddamn tenseness had caused Kendall to lose his center.

He couldn't get it back, couldn't seem to re-discover it, and even though there was a smooth enough delivery to the performance (probably because he'd run through it thirteen times), even Kendall wasn't delusional enough to believe a rehearsed demeanor would be enough to win Dak over.

"This," James said coldly, refusing to rise to Kendall's bait, "is the video we're doing."

For better or worse, James was determined to stick to his plan, even as he saw it all going down the crapper. Kendall didn't know whether to be angry at James for his ridiculous stubborn streak or to feel guilty for letting him down.

Maybe he felt both at the same damn time.

"Just so you know, if you tell me to do it again," Kendall said, and he knew he sounded as tired as he felt, "I'm going to tell you to fuck off."

James looked up. He might be overly stubborn and too determined to stick to the path that wasn't working, but Kendall could tell from the hint of despair in his eyes that he knew the score.

"No point," he said shortly.

Kendall raised an eyebrow.

"Dak just texted me," James said by way of explanation, "we'll film the test tomorrow during one of the Dream Team filming breaks. Ten a.m."

It was so tempting to lean over, reach into the freezer and grab the bottle of Belvedere that Kendall had found the other day. At the time he'd been impressed with the taste of whoever stocked the apartment, but then he'd remembered it was James.

It was always fucking James.

But they were screwed enough, he was probably going to move his ass back to Napa and beg for his job back. This was no time to be indulging in bad habits and screwing himself over worse. Besides, he learned the hard way that sometimes getting drunk only made everything worse.

He didn't even want to imagine what might have happened if he hadn't thrown a hissy fit, drank all that faux Kahlua and typed out an email that he'd never even meant to send.

He definitely wouldn't be standing here, contemplating the end of Pastry by Kendall and wondering how much groveling he would have to do to get another job.

"You want a drink?" James asked and Kendall looked up in surprise, wondering how he'd managed to read his mind yet again.

"Um...no? Why do you ask?"

James shrugged. "Alcohol seems to be your crutch when things don't go your way."

It wasn't fair but it was true. That didn't mean it stung any less. "Things aren't exactly going your way either."

"I'm used to things not going my way. Besides, everything will be fine tomorrow," James said, but Kendall didn't even bother arguing. They both knew the truth of what would probably happen during the test tomorrow. Some things were painfully inevitable, and they'd been so on this crash course from the very first moment. "We should both get some rest. We'll cab over in the morning to the studio."

James' casual dismissal of Kendall and everything they'd shared definitely stung. It might be self-preservation for James, but Kendall didn't want to live with regrets and he didn't want to pretend he was okay with this. Even with James' cold shoulder of the last two days, he _still_ wanted him. He still wanted the possibility of hope for the future, even if that was at least a little delusional.

It was that thought that gave him the energy to push himself off the counter. He walked over to where James was sitting, head buried in his laptop, fingers typing away like it was some kind of barrier that protected him from anything real.

"I'll be out of your hair in a moment," James said, not even looking up.

Kendall stood there, not exactly patient, but waiting because he was saving his pushiness for something that mattered. "You're not in my hair. I don't want you to go."

James still didn't look up. "You just said you didn't want to go through it again."

Kendall shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't just reach out and take, mussing up James' perfectly styled hair, his still-crisp shirt collar, the omnipresent bow tie. Today's was a leafy green.

"I don't."

Something in Kendall's voice must have gotten through to James, because finally, he glanced up. There was apprehension in his hazel eyes. Something like fear, even if he tried to hide it. Kendall saw it because Kendall was looking for it.

"We talked about this," James spit out, and his eyes flickered for a single brief moment to where the list was still hanging on the fridge.

_No kissing._

_No sex._

_No fighting._

_No sarcastic retorts._

Of course Kendall had started ignoring number four almost immediately. It had been a natural reflex to try to get a reaction out of the suddenly icy James. But he hadn't tried the other three. He'd worked hard not to argue, to not fight back. It had been even harder to resist pushing James on the other rules.

He'd been as good as he could possibly be; he was done with it.

"We did," Kendall admitted.

"Then what do you want?" James asked, even more defensively than he'd been the last two miserable days.

When Kendall had walked over here, crossing the invisible line between kitchen and camera, between chef and producer, he hadn't understood that this was a watershed moment. It was crystal clear now.

Some things were so simple they didn't need explanations.

"You."

James' jaw dropped. "You really don't. Not after everything."

"That's the thing, I want you _more _after everything. Even after how shitty all these rehearsals have been. Even if I have to go back to Napa and grovel. None of that feels like it matters now."

James shot to his feet, hands shutting his laptop, reaching for his bag. Not the reaction Kendall had been hoping for. Everyone always said that if you laid it all on the line, if you were honest and straightforward about what you wanted, you got it.

Everyone were fucking liars. Kendall couldn't hide his disappointment or the pain he felt as he watched James try to escape.

"What if I had never sent you that email?" he demanded. He was so tempted to just show James how much he wanted him, but he knew that wouldn't work. James had to _know _he wanted it too, even if they both knew he did. He had to acknowledge it to himself, and to Kendall. And shoving everything he'd brought into his bag so he could escape was the exact opposite of that.

James looked up. Maybe it should've helped that Kendall saw the same echo of frustration and pain in his eyes, but it didn't. It made it worse. Like this was their chance, and they were just passing it by.

At least Kendall was fucking putting his ass out there. James was just running away.

"It doesn't matter. Because you did. And you can't change that." James' voice was hard, so hard it sounded like it might crack at any moment.

"I'm sorry I sent it," Kendall said, and he knew he sounded desperate. He _was _desperate. "I've never been sorrier about anything in my whole life." He meant it. All of it. And it meant nothing.

"Me too," James said, and then he was walking out of the kitchen and Kendall heard the front door shut behind him.

This time it didn't feel like a bad idea to reach for the bottle of vodka in the freezer and take a gulp, feeling it burn all the way down his throat.

* * *

James didn't know who he was angrier at; Kendall for making him want to believe him, or himself for nearly doing it.

He couldn't sleep. Since he'd left Kendall's place, he felt like he'd been half a rationalization away from going back. To telling Kendall that he wanted him too, screw how much he might regret it later.

But then...he'd probably regret it either way, he thought as he restlessly switched sides, staring at the bright neon-green numbers of the clock on his bedside table. He'd regret sleeping with Kendall, and he'd definitely regret _not _sleeping with him.

The question was which regret was larger and more life-ruining in the grand scheme of things.

It turned out that the answer was so shockingly simple; James wanted Kendall. He'd tried very hard to fight against it, he'd actively attempted to stifle it, to pretend it didn't exist, and part of the exhaustion of the last few days wasn't how much energy it took to deny such an obvious truth.

He was up and out of bed before he'd even thought it through-probably because if he let himself, he wouldn't have gone anywhere anytime soon, and he was done overthinking. It was easy enough to slip on a pair of shoes and scoot down the hallway to Kendall's door.

The difficult part was standing in front of Kendall's door, waiting for him to open it. It took every ounce of James' self-possession to knock, then knock again, and then knock _again_, the whole time praying that Kendall hadn't taken James' rejection and gone looking someplace else.

After the third prolonged knock, the only thing keeping him rooted in place at Kendall's doorstep was a stubborn belief that he couldn't have come all this way, through all this shit, and then at the end, Kendall had given up on James before James could give up on himself.

Finally, the door opened. Kendall didn't look happy to see him, in fact, he looked pissed off.

James couldn't really blame him for that.

An apology was right here, but at the last second, his dick just took over, and said what he'd been so reluctant to acknowledge: "I want you, I do."

A frown creased Kendall's handsome features. "Now? You're going to get me up in the middle of the night, and tell me that _now _you've finally decided you want me?"

James hadn't considered that this wouldn't be easy. That Kendall would expect some sort of groveling after all the overtures that James had rejected.

"Yes." James usually didn't _do _groveling. Pride was a hard-won possession, and he wasn't about to give it up, even for Kendall.

Kendall must have realized this, because after a long, heart-stopping moment, he pulled the door the rest of the way open, and James didn't move because he couldn't.

The reason why it had taken Kendall so long to come to the door was that he'd already started without James. Probably because he'd never imagined James would show up, interested in the bulge he was packing in those tight black briefs.

That was where he had been very wrong; James was more than interested. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, and looked his fill. Kendall's solid, slim chest, the tenseness in his biceps, the sweat beaded around his hairline, the mussed hair, how his fingers kept clenching and unclenching. The tautness of his abs as he held himself still and refused to cover up.

James approved because he shouldn't ever. He was gorgeous, a barely contained storm in that laid-back body.

"I didn't think you'd come back," Kendall said, voice calm but with a tense edge.

James wasn't going to argue when there were so many better things he could be doing with his mouth.

Urgency propelled him forward, through the doorway, almost falling against Kendall. Before he could, Kendall reached out and caught him. James lifted his head towards his, and a long, eternal stare passed between them. Kendall's eyes were smoky in the dim light, and James couldn't help but wonder if his own were darker. Intense. If everything he felt was reflected in them. The desperation. The desire. How hopeless he was against the two together; hopeless against Kendall.

James could feel just how much Kendall wanted him, hard against his stomach, pushing against the thin fabric covering his crotch, but Kendall didn't move.

It was hard enough to take the first step here, it should feel easier to take the last. It wasn't. But nobody had ever considered James a coward, and he wouldn't act cowardly now.

Leaning in, James fitted his mouth against Kendall's, and their lips moved against each other for a moment, uncoordinated and unsure, but then everything slid into place.

James had spent his entire life avoiding fantasy. He was practical and prosaic-all by necessity. But now, he had a sudden thought that his kiss wasn't just a physical manifestation of a deeply physical need, but that it was locking them together, two out-of-sync tumblers clicking uselessly, until one perfect moment when they clicked.

He almost wanted Kendall to ask him if he was going to leave again, just so he could tell him that he wasn't, that he couldn't. But Kendall seemed very uninterested in any more talking, hands moving down James' chest, only breaking apart to pull his shirt off, to pant unevenly into the damp skin of his neck.

It helped that James knew exactly where the bedroom was, and so exactly where to steer them, James shedding his shoes, then his sweatpants as they stumbled down the hallway, lips fused together.

When they reached the bed, James shoved Kendall onto the edge and placed a very possessive hand against the cock throbbing in his briefs.

Kendall groaned into his mouth. Something insensible. Something very much like begging. And James was perfectly happy to give him exactly what he wanted. He pulled the fabric down, watching as Kendall's cock sprung from its confines.

James knew many people considered sucking cock a demanding activity, like dropping to your knees somehow made you subservient, but he'd always gotten a power rush from it. Kendall's shocked, pleased expression rushed through him as he lowered himself, flicking his tongue just briefly against the head.

"Please," Kendall said, and he sounded wrecked.

Maybe James always felt a power rush because he liked making a big production out of a blowjob. Liked to tease. Like to drive the man above him to barely wrung-out pleas. Some people wrote symphonies, some painted art, some sculpted out of clay and marble. James really liked to give a perfect blowjob.

He took his time about it now, wondering how far he could drive Kendall with little teasing licks, fingers digging purposefully into the meat of his thighs, a counterpoint to the delicacy of what his mouth was doing to his cock.

Kendall quickly fell to a litany of nonsense and moans. He seemed to understand that James didn't want his hands on him, and he kept them fisted in the comforter, knuckles white as he clenched the cotton.

But he must have gotten close before James even arrived, because it was too soon and he'd already reached a fevered point of begging. James tongued the head, tasted the rush of salt, and knew he must be close, even though he'd barely even gotten started.

As far as James was concerned, what made him really good at sucking cock wasn't a preplanned attack, but the ability to improvise in the middle. So he abandoned the delicate teasing abruptly, mouth sliding down Kendal's cock, sucking with all the force he dared.

Kendall's yelp was very rewarding and so was the flood of Kendall's release on his tongue. He swallowed, taking his time about cleaning up every inch of Kendall's length as it softened in his mouth.

Finally Kendall pushed him off, and there was only the sound of heavy breathing in the dim room. James suddenly was acutely aware of his own arousal, pressing against his thigh.

"Give me a second," Kendall breathed out, voice unsteady, "you might have killed me."

"But what a way to go," James said, feeling very satisfied-but not nearly as satisfied as he could be.

"If you'd believe it, you were doing the exact same thing in my head when you knocked on my door."

James raised an eyebrow. "Okay," Kendall corrected with a silly little grin that shouldn't have made both James' heart and dick flex, but it did anyway, "not quite the exact same thing. I don't have the same perverse imagination as you apparently do."

"I'm about to get a lot more perverse," James threatened, the thrum of blood in his cock becoming more and more insistent.

"I've got you," Kendall said, and the hand he extended to lift him up was gentle and so was his voice.

His hand however, was the right amount of rough friction that James didn't even know he needed as Kendall fisted around his length and pumped him hard and reckless. James might be ashamed at how quickly it ended, but then he had a feeling they both knew he hadn't only been teasing Kendall.

Kendall wiped his hand on the sheet and rolled over in the bed. James hesitated on the edge, not sure if he should stay or go. All of his hookups had always been only sex. Once orgasms were had, it was over, and James usually left, because he never liked strangers in his personal space. He'd spent too many years doing that.

But Kendall was looking at him expectantly, like he expected James to roll over and go to sleep.

James almost said no. He almost said he was tired and he was going to walk the few yards back to his own place, and go to sleep in his own bed. But then he remembered the way their mouths had fit together, the eerie sensation of two people locking into each other, and though he wasn't sure he wanted to stay, he didn't really want to leave either.

So he lay on the bed in the warm spot Kendall had vacated and watched as Kendall reached over and flicked the light off.

"Night," he said, and hated how uncertain he sounded.

"Night," Kendall returned, all lazy satisfaction, like he'd gotten everything he'd wanted.

They both had; that much was clearly obvious from the way they'd gone up in flames from the first moment they'd touched. James knew he should be feeling more resolved. But tomorrow's screen test still loomed over them, and there was too much ambiguity about the future for him to relax.

He rolled over and willed sleep to overtake him. It still didn't come. Even when Kendall fell into a gentle patter of snores, too quiet to be annoying, and also too quiet to drown out his uneasy brain.

He told himself that he was making the right decision when he silently slid out of the bed and locked Kendall's door behind him with the key he still had on his ring. It was just a night of sleep, and in the grand scheme of things, it really shouldn't mean anything.

* * *

Was it fair of Kendall to be pissed that he'd woken this morning and James had already been gone? Probably. Was it surprising that he'd opened his eyes to nothing but empty sheets? Not really.

James, even after admitting he wanted Kendall and thoroughly acting on the desire, was still skittish. Still unsure. Never really convinced that Kendall really wanted him, despite all the words and actions that proved otherwise.

A younger, more selfish Kendall might have gotten frustrated with James before this, but Kendall took pride in the fact that he wanted the other man _because _of how difficult he was to convince, not in spite of it. There was a careful hesitancy in James that Kendall loved-because when James finally felt secure enough to let go, you knew you'd won him over, heart, mind, body, and soul.

And _that_ was the end goal that Kendall was really gunning for.

Now they only had to make it through this screen test and hope that it would be enough to convince Dak, because anything else they could fix later.

Kendall just needed this _one _thing to fall their way.

* * *

**Done! Soooooo...yeah. :P**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well was if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed and that you all are having a great week so far! Next chapter, we'll finally get to the screen test! I'm sure some of you are curious to see what happens with that, so that chapter will probably be up sometime this weekend.**

**Until then!**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hello again everyone, and welcome back to Explosive. :)**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter. I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, Guest, Side1ways, annabellex2, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!**

**I was trying to decide whether to update this story or Easy, but since I'm sure some of you are anxious to see how the screen test goes, I figured I'd go with this one. :P**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

They'd arrived on set to the expected chaos of a show that was just getting underway for the first day of filming. Dak was there, and his boyfriend, Chris, who wrote the script for Dream Team. Alex Patton and Liam Maxwell, the talent, were running late, which didn't seem to surprise anyone.

"That's why they told us we could do our screen test today," James murmured into Kendall's ear, and with the hot breath brushing his skin, he had to remind himself that James wasn't going to do that hot little nibbling thing he'd done last night.

"Because things are already chaotic?" Kendall asked.

"Because they won't be likely to get much done today at all. Alex and Liam can be...tough to wrangle."

"So it's not just me, then?" Kendall glanced over at James, grinning. James was not grinning. That was another thing Kendall wanted desperately-for James to _relax_.

But asking James to relax in the middle of chaos, during one of the most important days of his career, was useless. It wasn't ever going to happen.

"That was never our problem. Or _your _problem," James said.

Maybe another day Kendall would have asked James to detail exactly what his problem was, but the memories from last night-what could be if they could learn to work together instead of against each other-were too fresh. The last thing he wanted to do was dredge up all the shit from the previous weeks.

They hadn't really resolved it, and it still lay there, stagnant and sour, between them. Maybe James thought they could move on without dealing with it, but Kendall knew they couldn't.

Even if Kendall cared about James enough to let it go-and despite how stupid it was, he was edging closer to that place-James would never let it go. Kendall didn't think he even wanted to.

"Are you ready?" James asked, jerking Kendall out of the melancholy fog that he'd felt from the moment he'd woken up and realized he was alone.

"I was born ready," he said, putting on a confident front that he didn't really feel anymore. Before he'd come here, Pastry by Kendall always made him feel freer, an endless opportunity stretched out in front of him. Now thinking of what could happen to his show, all he felt was apprehension.

It was hard to face that at least half of that was his fault, but he forced himself to.

Without that email, Dak wouldn't have demanded a screen test, and he wouldn't have spent the last two days unsuccessfully recording himself baking peanut butter chocolate cookies.

The cookies had been fantastic; his performance had been anything but.

Before, it had only ever been him. Then it had been easy to think it was just him and James, for better and worse. And now there was a huge crowd of people, and even though Kendall had never cared before, suddenly what they thought mattered.

He swallowed hard and unsuccessfully ignored the sudden tightness in his chest.

"Just remember that it just needs to be good enough," James said.

The hardest part of the last two days was watching the hopeful light in James' eyes go out as he figured out that Kendall couldn't perform on command. And hearing his words now only proved that even James wasn't sure he could do it.

"Okay," Kendall said, shoving his suddenly damp hands into his pockets, wondering if anyone would notice if he ran away and hid in the bathroom.

He didn't even have a green room because this wasn't even his show.

"You're going to be fine," James said. He placed a reassuring hand on Kendall's back, high enough to be professional. Stupidly, Kendall wished that he'd move it lower, make what had happened last night official and public. But that wasn't James' style. It wasn't even Kendall's style. At least it hadn't been before he'd met James. James made him want all sorts of things he'd always avoided, and the painful irony was that he was the least likely to get them because it _was _James.

"Fine," Kendall parroted back, tongue thick and uncooperative. He couldn't remember the last time he'd even been nervous but he was undeniably nervous now.

James checked his smartwatch. "Time for makeup," he said, and with his hand still on Kendall's back, steering him over to the makeup station.

Kendall had never worn makeup for Pastry by Kendall before, and he forced himself to remember that they were trying to up the production quality for the new version.

It didn't help.

He sat down in front of the mirror and watched as the nice lady put a new, strange face on him.

The bathroom had never looked more appealing. Kendall didn't even think about his little dinky kitchen in Napa because if he did, he wasn't sure he could keep it together.

* * *

_Would Kendall be better if I had stayed?_

The question echoed through James' brain for the hundredth time since they'd gotten to the Dream Team set.

Kendall had been nervous and tense from the moment James had met him at the set, and instead of relaxing with James' hand on him, he'd only grown edgier.

James stood behind the central camera operator and crossed his arms over his chest, careful to keep the frown off his face, but feeling it reverberate through him.

Kendall was standing in the kitchen, the place he always looked confident and sure, but he looked nothing like he usually did.

He looked like an apprehensive wreck, and it was taking every ounce of James' self-control to not walk up there and do something-_anything_-to calm him down.

James knew he should have stayed. He never should have left, never should have given Kendall a reason to doubt that he liked him, that he cared about him, and James had been monumentally stupid enough to do it the day before the most important ten minutes of both their careers.

That was exactly why James almost never let himself do what he really craved. Because either he did something to screw things up or they were bad ideas and only made things worse, not better. Last night had been great. He couldn't even think about it without a little frisson of invisible pleasure, but it hadn't been worth throwing everything else away.

The director called for quiet. Kendall forced out a painful little half-smile, and then the worst ten minutes of James' life began.

He knew right away that Kendall's performance this time was even worse than most of the recordings they'd done over the last two days. He'd worried about those, had been afraid that he was too stiff, so he'd pushed and pressed and hoped that they could make some improvements before this moment came.

Now James wished he'd just kept his fucking mouth shut because he would have loved to have those performances be _this _performance.

"And now, uh, you put these in the oven for ten minutes," Kendall said, and slid the cookie sheet into the oven. Wooden. Dry. None of the playful, laughing charm that had won over so many people who didn't care about pastry at all.

James had counted himself in that group, from the very beginning, and this hurt more than he ever could have imagined it would. Because it wasn't only his failure, it was the failure of a persona that Kendall had believed in. A persona that he'd believed himself to be.

James wished he could take it all back and leave Kendall alone. Leave him to his bad production values, and poor lighting, and the single swipe of raspberry puree on one cheekbone. _Perfection_.

"Cut," the director yelled, and it blessedly, thankfully, ended.

"What just happened?"

James turned and Dak was standing there. James' stomach plummeted.

"He was nervous, uh, a little tense, I think," James said, and because there was nothing else to do, pushed. "I have a lot of rehearsal footage that you should see. It's a lot better." Not by much, but it _was _better.

Dak raised an eyebrow. "You rehearsed? How much?"

"The last two days," James said, even though he was sure Dak already knew the answer. James was unfailingly predictable.

"What I wanted to see," Dak said reluctantly, "was a meshing together of your two viewpoints. The organization and production value that you bring to the table, but the spontaneity and charm of who Kendall is in the kitchen. Your point of view completely overwhelmed his. You rehearsed him way too much. He knew what he was going to say before he even said it. There was nothing here from Pastry by Kendall. It was more Pastry by James."

It was one thing to know it, it was another to have his boss pronounce it. James wanted to sink through the floor and die, especially when he saw Kendall approaching behind Dak, clearly hearing every word he was saying. The worried crinkle between his brows told James everything he needed to know. Kendall was half a step out the door, half a step away from going back to Napa and resuming a life that he'd already outgrown.

And James, for the first time in his life, confronted a problem that he didn't know how to fix.

"We can do better," James said, because he didn't know what else _to _say. He believed they could; he had no idea how to go about doing it, but they couldn't be so good together sometimes without some potential for success.

Dak just shook his head. "I don't want _better_. I want what you had." He turned and pinned Kendall with a single look. "James is a great guy, but just because you want in his pants doesn't mean you should just nod your head and smile whenever he tells you to do something. He's not infallible. And neither are you." He threw up his hands. "For the love of God, take a long weekend and figure out how to work together."

"Uh…" James said. Because he couldn't take a long weekend and not know what that meant for his future. Was he fired? Was Pastry by Kendall as a Five Points property over before it had even begun?

"Get out of here," Dak said sternly, and his expression very clearly stated arguments wouldn't be tolerated. "I don't want to hear you did one minute of work. Go somewhere, I don't care where. Clear your heads. And when you get back we'll figure out this mess you two have made."

It was bad, but James supposed he was grateful it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

Kendall looked like a thundercloud come to life as Dak walked off to supervise the finalization of the set for Dream Team.

"I'm sorry," James said, because everything else felt painfully inadequate.

"Yeah, you should be. The real question is what you're actually sorry for."

James swallowed hard. "I don't know what you mean."

"That's your whole damn problem," Kendall said. "And we're going to fix it."

Which is how, two hours later, James found himself in another rental car, heading towards Northern California.

"You can't run away every time things get ugly," James said, because he didn't like where this was going. He knew what had happened the last time Kendall had decided to go back to Napa, and they were on thin enough ice as it was.

"That," Kendall started, "is your other problem. You think I'm running away. I'm not. I'm blowing off steam. You've never blown off steam in your life. You're about to self-combust from all the steam building inside you. You put way too much pressure on yourself. Take too much on. We're going up to Napa to help you learn to let stuff go."

"Shouldn't we be working on how to fix the show?" James insisted. "We're half-fired at this moment in time. Blowing off work to drink and party doesn't seem like the best plan."

"Dak wouldn't just fire you, not after everything you've done to get to where you are now. Besides, he specifically said we're not working this weekend. And even if he didn't, I wouldn't let you. We've rehearsed enough. We need to learn to work together, and that's never going to happen if you can't fucking relax."

"So you're going to...teach me to relax?" James didn't know what to make of this plan. Actually, scratch that. He knew what he thought of it and it wasn't anything good. It was a terrible plan, probably going to result in them being totally, one hundred percent fired.

"Yes."

"I can relax."

"And yet I have seen zero evidence of you actually relaxing," Kendall said. "We tried things your way, and they failed spectacularly. You wound us both up so tight that I could barely breathe. I don't even know how you survive wound this tight all the time. So we're going to do things my way."

"But-" James started, but Kendall just interrupted him.

"No arguments. No circular logical shit. You're going to fucking relax, even if it kills me."

"It might, because I'll probably end up murdering you," James said, and he couldn't help how grumpy he sounded. He was _fine_. He didn't need to relax. Relaxation never got anyone anywhere.

"Yeah," Kendall drawled, his hand on the wheel relaxed as he smiled, skin crinkling near his eyes, "you can fuck me to death."

James scoffed.

"Seriously, it might be fun. You might actually enjoy yourself for a minute."

"Are you going to keep bringing up sex just to remind me what happened last night?" James demanded. "Because trust me, I do not need a reminder."

Kendall glanced over, and he was still smiling. Like the further north they drove, the further he unwound. Even James baiting the shit out of him didn't make a dent.

"I don't know, I think _I _do. A little refresher, we could even say."

James snorted, because he just couldn't help himself. "Is that how you get guys in your bed? You never stop harassing them?" It wasn't hard to swallow the question of why Kendall wouldn't stop harassing _him_. After all, he'd left Kendall alone in bed, and fucked up his career.

He wasn't sure which Kendall should be more pissed off about, but James knew he would never be big enough to let it go. But instead of biting his head off, Kendall was driving them to Napa, relaxing and smiling, like last night had been perfect.

"When it's perfect, yeah, I'm not going to let that go. Let _you _go." Kendall smirked.

And it sort of had been perfect, at least before James went and overthought everything. Before James remembered what the next morning would bring.

Somehow they'd both survived the morning, though James had a feeling that had more to do with Dak probably not wanting to deal with them at the moment than actually catching a break.

Still. They were still here. Still together. James felt the invisible belt holding him together loosen a single notch.

"It _was_ pretty great," he admitted, and Kendall's smile grew at least ten degrees brighter.

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Kendall teased.

"I don't know," James said, barely managing to keep a straight face. He was _not _going to grin at Kendall like a lovesick loon. Except he sort of was. Kendall was making him begin to believe in fate. "It might be pretty hard later."

XxX

It was a long drive to Napa, almost six hours from the studio, but James felt like he spent most of it half-hard, blood simmering in anticipation of what they might do when they finally got to the hotel Kendall had booked.

Kendall seemed like he wanted it too, just as much as James did. The looks he'd been shooting in James' direction were hardly subtle, and his comments were even less so. And every so often he'd put his hands on James, casually, in the middle of conversation, like it didn't mean anything at all.

But it meant a lot. It meant that Kendall worked him up and then carefully made sure he never really calmed down.

Instead of pulling into the hotel parking lot, they sailed right past, and James tried not to look too frantic as he unlocked his phone to verify the reservation.

"That was the place," he said, trying to sound calm and not panicked. _Relaxed_. He'd never considered himself particularly sex-obsessed before, but he craved Kendall powerfully now that he'd actually allowed himself to.

"What?" Kendall asked, as laid-back as ever. James wanted to strangle him and also shove his dick down his throat. He really hated how desperate Kendall made him-just by being himself.

"That was our hotel," James got out in a strangled voice. "We just passed it!"

"Oh yeah," Kendall said. "It was. Good eye."

"What are you doing?!" James didn't even recognize his own voice.

"Don't worry," Kendall said, leaning over and resting a warm palm conveniently on James' thigh. James sucked in a breath. "We'll get there soon enough. I made us a wine tasting reservation first. A few of them, actually."

"A _few_?" James squeaked.

Kendall shot him a soft, scorching smile. "A few, yeah. Is that a problem?"

If Kendall thought James was going to be the first to break down and demand sex, he was crazy.

"No," James said, pulling himself back together only because he'd done it his whole life. "I'm good."

It was a complete and total lie, and Kendall's expression made it clear he knew just how untruthful James was being.

"Yeah, you are," Kendall said, and his voice was a slick caress across James' skin.

He was definitely going to kill him by the time they made it back to the hotel. Or maybe he'd just do as Kendall had suggested and fuck him to death.

XxX

"This," the sommelier said, "is our unoaked chardonnay." He poured a little of the golden liquid into each other their glasses. James shifted uncomfortably on his wooden stool.

He'd always believed a wine tasting would be fun. Anything involving alcohol was _supposed _to be, right? But from the moment they'd driven up the winding road to the huge, imposing winery, with its expensive fixtures and obvious antiques, to being shown into the private tasting room, James had been on edge.

And not even the fun sort of edge that Kendall had honed during the drive up.

This was the edge where James never knew what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to act, what he was supposed to say. All accompanied by the fear and horror of choosing wrong and revealing himself as a fraud.

He might look the part of a young, successful adult, but it still felt like an act and like he might be exposed at any moment.

Dak had wondered once why James always made sure he was meticulously prepared and so extensively researched. _This _was why.

But Kendall had dragged him up to these wineries before he could look into their dress codes, their wine lists, their tasting room etiquettes.

James didn't know how Kendall could look so calm when he had no clue what he was supposed to say about the stupid wine.

Usually he looked up reviews, and formed an opinion before he even tasted anything, because it helped create a good frame of reference. James knew he was wine-ignorant and even as he took a sip now, letting the liquid swell in his mouth, he was lost.

Kendall didn't help at all, just tasted, expression thoughtful and frustratingly blank.

"What do you think?" the sommelier asked.

Kendall had introduced him as Beau, one of his roommates' ex-boyfriends, and he looked the part of a professional sommelier-polished and urbane, his shoes probably costing more than James' whole outfit.

He'd only longingly glanced at the beautifully burnished cognac leather loafers a few times before they'd sat down.

The test had come and James had known there was no way he could pass. He didn't drink boxed wine, but he definitely only bought wine under ten dollars. Sometimes even under seven dollars. He didn't have a rarified or educated palate.

Even though Kendall claimed not to know much either, Kendall still knew more because he'd worked at Terroir, and he'd lived in Napa.

"It's got a surprisingly buttery finish," Kendall said, saving him even though he couldn't know how tense James had become at being asked to provide an opinion on the wine. "I thought you said it was oaked."

"It's not," Beau responded.

"Could've fooled me," Kendall said before downing the rest of the glass.

Beau scowled. "Amazing, you're still an asshole."

But Kendall just smiled back, all charming congeniality. "And you're still a fucking snob. But you pour good wine, which is why we're here. So do your job, and pour up some more wine."

It shouldn't have been sexy hearing Kendall tell off the sommelier, but it was an unexpected turn-on. James squirmed in his chair, torn between annoyance and fondness. He shouldn't want or like Kendall as much as he did, but that ship had already sailed and there was absolutely nothing James could do about it now.

"_This_," Beau said, shooting Kendall a snooty glare from his blue eyes, "is an oaked chardonnay."

James glanced at the tasting card resting between them on the gleaming wood bar top. There was only one chardonnay listed-the one they'd just finished. He might not know anything about wine, but he did know how to read, so he spoke up.

"Which chardonnay is this one again? I don't see it listed."

Beau shot Kendall a look, but Kendall's gaze met James' across their glasses, and they shared a conspiratorial, secret look that made James' stomach somersault.

"Knight, what would your old roommates say if they knew you were dating?" The sommelier lifted a glossy eyebrow, flawlessly groomed.

"We're not dating," James corrected frostily, and briefly considered explaining they were just fucking. But not enough for James' peace of mind.

"He's my producer," Kendall said, completely breaking protocol by reaching over and pouring some more of the first chardonnay in his glass. "And that second chardonnay is disgusting. Don't pour that again."

He looked at James, and the warmth in his expression made James wonder if he'd lied earlier. Were they dating? Was this a date? Was this whole weekend a date? Weren't you supposed to go on a lot of silly, short dates before you took someone on a weekend getaway?

It was stupid to even think it. They didn't even like each other, and they couldn't stop fighting for five minutes put together. But the times they weren't fighting? James _lived_ for those moments. For the soft, sweet Kendall who made him want to be soft and sweet too. Kendall, who made him believe that he _could _be, even though he'd assumed for so long that he was hopeless. Too shut off, too closed off, too much of a workaholic.

Kendall made him want things he couldn't define.

"And to answer your question, we're going to a late dinner at the house tonight, so maybe you can call up Carlos and ask him what he thinks."

Beau stiffened, and James would have had to be a lot more obtuse to miss the flash of hurt in his eyes. It was gone almost instantly, but it had been unmistakable.

"This," Beau said coldly after they'd drained their glasses, "is one of our library cabernet sauvignons. I hope your palate will appreciate it."

It was rich and complex, and enigmatic combination of the light and dark. And James said so, out loud, before he could stop himself.

Beau merely looked constipated, but Kendall smiled encouragingly.

"It is good," he said. "Surprisingly dark, smooth finish, but light and drinkable. I like it." He downed the glass. "And you already know my palate won't appreciate it."

"True," Beau said. "But you," he pointed at James, "actually have some potential, unlike that idiot sitting next to you."

James was almost stupid enough to protest, because of course he didn't have any potential. He drank cheap wine. He didn't really care too much what it tasted like-in fact, he ignored what it tasted like, because for so long, he couldn't afford anything better, and drinking wine at all had felt like a luxury, like he was better than he really was. But all that did was force him to remember who he was and where he'd come from. If Beau the snooty sommelier said his palate had potential, then it _did_.

Kendall's smile was supportive. "Don't give him too many ideas, he'll be talking about cigar smoke and mahogany next." His hand reached out and rested on James' knee. It was warm and delicate and it made James shiver. He wanted to drag Kendall away and damn the wine tasting to hell.

How Kendall ever though he was going to relax while winding him tighter than he'd ever been, James wasn't sure.

Beau poured a merlot next, which was apparently the winery's newest release. This time he looked to James for his impressions, barely glancing at Kendall.

Emboldened by the compliment to his palate and the wine he'd already drunk, James felt marginally more comfortable offering his opinion.

"It's spicy and burns a little, but a good burn," he cautiously.

"You really shouldn't bring him over to that hellhole," Beau said as they were getting ready to go. They hadn't bought any wine, but when they were getting ready to go, Beau had pushed over a bottle in a brown paper bag. "For tonight," was all he said, and Kendall had frowned. James was pretty sure the frown had something to do with Beau's ex-boyfriend. Carlos. Kendall's friend.

"It's not a hellhole. I lived there for two years," Kendall said.

James figured he was allowed an opinion because he'd actually been there.

"It's not even close to a hellhole," he defended. He didn't add that he'd seen actual hellholes growing up, and the run-down, worn house Kendall had lived in couldn't even begin to compete.

Beau only shook his head. "You know where to find me if you get sick of them."

"What did he mean?" James asked as they walked to the car. He told himself he wasn't jealous, that Beau wasn't propositioning Kendall if he got bored later. He was mostly lying.

"Beau works at a late-night wine bar too, pouring. Pays for his expensive shoes," was all Kendall said as they got into the car.

"You don't like him," James stated, somewhat to his own surprise. "You really, _really _don't like him."

"Gee, what gave that away?" Kendall asked with a lopsided grin in James' direction.

"I mean...you don't talk to _me_ that way. I thought that's how you talked to people you didn't like." James had a fleeting thought that maybe this conversation shouldn't be happening now, after he'd had more than a few glasses of wine. Kendall had pleaded required sobriety for driving, but Beau had poured most of the winery library for James.

At the time it had seemed like an excellent learning opportunity; a way to expand and refine his palate. Only now did James realize drinking so much wine on an empty stomach had been a mistake. He was definitely tipsy, and even worse, he kept saying all sorts of things to Kendall that he shouldn't.

Was this what being relaxed felt like? No. It was definitely what being drunk felt like.

"That's because I don't dislike you."

"But...you definitely seem to. I mean, you _said _you did."

"I also said I thought you had a hot ass. Does that seem like something I'd say to someone I didn't like?"

"No." He _did _have a hot ass. It was hardly the first time he'd been informed of this fact, but none of those other times had made his face burn and his cock harden. In fact, all those other times, he'd varied between mildly and extremely creeped out.

"You're cute when you've been drinking."

"I'm not drunk," James said. Total lie. The way Kendall grinned meant he knew just how drunk James was, and just how much he was lying. Hell, getting James drunk was probably Kendall's plan all along.

"And yet you're still not relaxed."

James frowned. It seemed _very _obvious the best way to relax him. And because he'd apparently lost his brain-to-mouth filter, he said it. Out loud. "I know exactly how you can relax me."

Kendall turned into a parking lot and pulled into a space. James glanced up at the sign above the rows of little wooden stalls.

"What is this?" he bit out. This wasn't the sort of relaxing he wanted to sign up for. The wine tasting had actually been pretty fun; whatever this was, James already knew he wouldn't like it. Why? It was _cooking_.

"I thought you might want to come to the farmer's market with me," Kendall said, so reasonably that James felt a tiny bit ashamed for snapping.

But only a tiny bit. After all, it felt like Kendall had been pressing for weeks for them to have sex, so it shouldn't have been so difficult to get him to do it again. Especially when it had been so good the first time. Even better than he could have predicted.

"Is the farmer's market supposed to relax me?" James snapped.

"I thought watching me cook turned you on?" Kendall glanced over, and there was so much heat in his green eyes it was a miracle he didn't melt right into the seat. Oh wait, that was James, who wasn't only feeling warm and loose from the wine he'd drunk.

"I don't think I remember saying that," James said. He should be a lot more ashamed at getting caught out, but this was _Kendall_, and he'd probably read all the comments on his videos a few dozen times. And everyone thought Kendall cooking was a turn-on, because it _was_.

It was those long fingers and the way he caressed every goddamn ingredient.

"Are you coming?" Kendall asked, eyes glittering with unrepentant amusement.

"_No_." James gave a frustrated grunt. "Not even close."

"Come on," Kendall chuckled, "it'll be fun."

"Fine, but if you fondle raspberries again, I'm done."

* * *

**Done! So, the screen test didn't go great, but it looks like they _might _not be fired! Plus, you all get a Kames weekend getaway out of the deal. :P**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed. The next chapter will pick up where this one left off and will more than likely be up sometime next week.**

**Until then! **

**-Epically Obsessed**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello again everyone! It's been a little over a week, but welcome back to Explosive! :D**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, annabellex2, Side1ways, Guest, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!**

**So, we left off with Kames essentially on vacation for a weekend and with Kendall on a mission to get James to relax. **

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

It was a hell of a lot sweeter than Kendall had ever imagined it would be to see James so obviously needy for sex. And not just sex in general-sex with _Kendall_.

The only thing was that he'd never really had someone turn him down so many times and fight so hard against a mutual attraction. Most of it was that it was just James. Kendall was beginning to realize he adored everything about him. From the way he'd stared enviously at Beau's stupidly expensive loafers, bought with too many long nights at the wine bar, to James' frustration that they hadn't immediately fallen into bed again, to his extraordinary pleased expression when he'd been told he had a decent palate.

He was adorable, if you paid attention. Even if you didn't, Kendall realized, but then he'd spent too long trying to ignore him. Even when James made himself difficult to ignore.

"Can you please explain what it is you're doing?" James asked, eyes obscured by a pair of aviator sunglasses he'd slipped on.

"As directed, I am not fondling the raspberries," Kendall said.

James took a step closer, leaning in close to murmur into Kendall's ear. "Then how come you're rolling them between your fingertips?"

Had he been? Given an inch, Kendall was figuring out that he was desperate to go the mile. Consciously or even subconsciously.

"Maybe because I want you as badly as you want me?"

"You're doing that annoying thing again, where you answer a question with a question," James hissed after Kendall dropped the container of raspberries into the basket he was carrying.

"You love it when I do that," Kendall insisted.

James snorted. "No. I definitely do not."

"Sorry?" Kendall asked, shooting James a lopsided smile. That smile had charmed legions during his single life, but all it did was emphasize James' frown.

"I don't get it," James said as they walked away from the fruit stand. "If you want me as much as I want you, how come we're not at the hotel right now?"

Kendall shoved his own sunglasses on top of his head as he leaned down to examine some zucchini. Maybe he'd make a zucchini and squash ratatouille. Jett had a secret obsession with Italian food and would appreciate it.

"Because," he said patiently, "we're at the farmer's market, buying supplies to make dinner. Also, because you're drunk and I don't want to do something you might regret."

A frustrated groan came out of James' mouth. "You're the one who took me wine tasting!"

Kendall turned away from the zucchini, deciding this needed his full attention. He couldn't get distracted by squash or zucchini or Jett's tendre for rustic Italian. "I took you wine tasting because you like wine, and I thought you might have fun. Even though that jerk Beau was the sommelier."

"But-" James tried to say but Kendall placed the produce basket on the ground and wrapped his arms around Jame's waist. James resisted a little, but eventually gave in, letting Kendall pull him closer.

"No buts," Kendall said seriously. "I _do_ want you. I can't wait to take you back to the hotel, but this is also a break for you. A break you really need. And as far as I'm concerned, that's more important than getting a quickie at the hotel. _You're _more important than a quickie at the hotel."

James' eyes grew wide. Like he genuinely didn't believe he was more than a convenient fuck. Which, as far as Kendall was concerned, was a bunch of bullshit. Yeah, he'd sent that email. Yeah, they'd fought and bickered like cats and dogs, but when had he ever made James feel like he didn't like him? Like he wasn't important? He'd been trying since he first realized to show James that he cared. Even more than he was ready to admit to.

"Oh…" James seemed shocked and speechless. But maybe still not totally convinced.

So instead of letting James go and picking up the produce basket, ready to resume his shopping, Kendall decided there was no time better than the present to do a little additional convincing.

It wasn't so easy for Kendall to say the words yet-even in his own mind, he tripped uncoordinatedly over them-so he showed James just how much he was wanted. He kissed him, pouring in all the skill he'd learned and all the passion he felt for the other man, his tongue slipping between James' still-stiff lips, giving everyone at the farmer's market a nice show.

It took a long second for James to respond, but when he did, he threw himself into the kiss, tongue rasping against Kendall's, hands wandering down his back, landing pretty firmly on his ass.

There were dim cheers somewhere over to his left, but all Kendall could feel was James' mouth moving insistently against his own, his body pressed against his, his erection poking into his hip. And it hit him, like a ton of zucchini, that this was what he had really wanted, almost from the beginning.

_James_ was what he had wanted. He had just been so slow-_way too fucking slow_-to see it.

Kendall leaned back and looked into James' hazel eyes.

"You really...you really do want me," James breathed out unsteadily. Kendall's own pulse was racing a hundred miles a second, and he didn't quite trust his own voice so he nodded.

And while James didn't say why he doubted him, Kendall thought as they resumed their casual stroll through the farmer's market that it weighed heavily between them. He ached for the young James, who had been convinced he wasn't worth anything, and that nothing had ever happened to change his mind.

XxX

"What are you making?" James asked, peering around Kendall's shoulder as he sauteed the squash for the ratatouille he was making. "Something with a god-awful amount of zucchini, which I don't even like."

Kendall glanced over at him, and even though he was still talking way too much and Kendall had taken his phone away from him twice now, James did seem a little more relaxed than he'd been in LA. Of course, that might also be all the wine he'd drunk.

"You don't like zucchini?" He remembered James telling him he didn't like sweets, and then the way he'd devoured the peanut butter chocolate chunk cookie and then the pain au chocolat. James might think he didn't like something, but judgment should be held until he'd tried Kendall's version.

He told James this, and his nose crinkled.

"You're such an egotistical asshole," James said and Kendall could only shrug.

"I'm a chef," he said as an explanation. "And I'm making ratatouille, or a version of ratatouille. Jett loves rustic Italian, though he will almost never admit to it."

"Jett, huh?" James said, and he wasn't even the tiniest bit subtle about the green in his voice. "You've never asked me what _I _liked."

"You told me you didn't like sweets. I thought it was my duty first to change your mind on that score, and then we'd go from there."

"Your cookies were passable," James said, leaning against the opposite counter, sipping his wine. The wine that Beau had given him. Kendall had already crumpled up the bag with its distinctive markings and buried it in the trash. Carlos didn't need to backslide into that black hole relationship again, no matter how much wine Beau gave them. "The croissants weren't really yours, they were mine, so I can freely admit to loving those, even if they were a pain in the ass."

Kendall pulled the zucchini off the stove. "So what do you like to eat then?"

"Pizza. Kung pao chicken. Tacos." James met Kendall's surprised expression with a semi-belligerent glare. "What? I don't cook, so I either order in or I go out."

"You need to learn how to cook," Kendall said with a sad shake of his head.

"And I suppose you're just the guy to teach me?" James asked, leaning back into Kendall's space. This time James kissed him, something quick and hot and almost brutal.

Kendall pulled away, nearly gasping. "I'm a pastry chef. I know just enough about savory ingredients to get by. But," he added, dropping another quick kiss on James' cheek, "I'll be damned if anyone else teaches you."

"You two are disgusting."

Kendall glanced up and Jett was standing in the doorway, holding a loaf of bread, the wrapper indicating their favorite bakery in Napa.

"And your heart is two sizes too small," Kendall retorted. "I'll pick sappy and disgusting over lonely and miserable any day."

"I don't think we've met before," James inserted, and though Kendall couldn't figure out why, the casualness in his voice was replaced by a sharp edge. "I mean, we probably did, but I don't think we were properly introduced. I'm James Diamond."

Jett clearly had no qualms about looking James up and down because he did, freely. Kendall ground his teeth and turned back to tomato sauce he'd been simmering on the stove.

He didn't even put the bread down so he could shake James' outstretched hand. "And I'm Jett. Resident grinch."

James shoved the hand back in his pocket and took half a step closer to where Kendall was starting to prep the ratatouille.

"What's this?" Jett said, sniffing appreciatively as he approached Kendall's other side, resting a hand on his back. "You made ratatouille? For me?"

"Someday you're going to admit your obnoxiously refined palate loves Italian," Kendall said.

"But not today," Jett said, sounding as smug as he ever had. James shook his head disapprovingly.

"I've never understood that," James said. "Someone makes you a meal, you should be grateful, not worried about how sophisticated it makes you look."

Kendall felt Jett bristle next to him.

"That's the difference going to culinary school makes," Kendall said with a deprecating laugh. "It makes us all feel very important. Like we're culinary gods." He hoped that would be enough for James to let it go, and for Jett to back down and not engage. Because if James and Jett ever got into it, there probably wouldn't be anything left but rubble in the kitchen.

"I enjoy common food," Jett said, and Kendall couldn't help but roll his eyes at his word choice.

"Yeah," he retorted, forgetting all about his vow to avert the fight and keep the kitchen intact, "'cause you're culinary royalty. I forgot."

"Like, In n' Out," Jett said defensively. "They use such fresh ingredients, and their cooking techniques aren't that shitty."

James glared at him. "Right, because McDonald's or Burger King is too basic for you."

"Yes, they are. If I want a burger, I at least want to eat a _good _burger, not some over-processed, greasy shit on a bun."

Kendall could feel the waves of rage pouring off James, but even as he held a hand out to steady him-covered with tomato sauce and all-James snapped back, "Sometimes that's all people can _afford_."

And suddenly, Kendall understood. People would never admit it, especially someone like Jett who had lived a solid middle-class life and had gone to culinary school right out of his parents' house, but good home cooking cost money. You needed equipment, you needed fresh produce and quality protein. None of that came cheap.

Kendall had taken a class in culinary school on food sustainability, and he couldn't believe it when the instructor had informed them that eating out on cheap junk food was often much cheaper than cooking healthy meals at home.

And of course, James, living in a foster home and then living hand-to-mouth on his own, wouldn't have been able to afford to learn to cook. The guilt was sudden and sweeping, making him nearly nauseous.

"Jett, do me a favor," Kendall said, words casual, his voice anything but, "shut the fuck up."

* * *

James knew he was supposed to be finding some magical well of relaxation in Napa, and up until now, even he could admit he was having a good time.

Separated from the antagonism that had dogged them from the first day, spending time with Kendall was just as fantastic as James had hoped it might be, back at the beginning.

But spending time with Kendall was not the same as spending time with Kendall's old roommates, in particular the abrasive, argumentative one who was currently hanging off Kendall like he wasn't going to let him go again.

The only romantic relationship Kendall had ever described any of them having was Carlos and his sommelier ex-boyfriend. He'd never said he'd been romantically or sexually involved with any of them, but it was hard not to believe this was lying by omission when Jett was putting his hands all over him.

Maybe that was why Jett was so bitter and unpleasant? James didn't want to think that if things with him and Kendall didn't work out-which, he couldn't help but admit dispiritedly, was seeming more and more likely by the day-he would end up like Jett. Sad. Disillusioned. Resembling a rabid dog anytime someone talked to him.

"What?" Jett said, flinging his hands in the air like he was innocent of all charges, which...had he _listened _to himself in the last five minutes? James didn't think so.

"You're an asshole," Kendall said with a scowl.

This pronouncement didn't seem to phase Jett, who was probably called this on a daily basis. He sure deserved the title a lot more than Beau, Carlos' ex, and _he _hadn't been particularly pleasant either.

Of course, James had partially incited the argument. He'd meant to keep his damn mouth shut, because he never brought up his old existence if he could help it, _especially _around people like Jett and Kendall. But Jett had been so smug and obnoxious, James hadn't been able to help it.

"I'm going to take a shower," Jett said. "I smell like lamb from all those chops I butchered during prep."

After he'd left the room, James busied himself with his wine glass, filling it again even though it had still been a quarter full. He couldn't look in Kendall's direction. He'd been the one to insist he never wanted to talk about his childhood, and then he had blurted something like that out. The guilt on Kendall's face had been unmistakable and the last thing James wanted was pity. Especially from Kendall.

James had always imagined that falling in love felt wonderful, like rose petals and rainbows and kittens with balls of yarn. But all he felt was vaguely sick, like he might throw up all the wine he'd drunk this afternoon.

"I'm sorry he's so…" Kendall said helplessly. "So...Jett. I know he can be cruel, I should have warned you."

To James' horror, he felt sudden and unexpected tears in the corners of his eyes. Jett had been cruel, though it hadn't been premeditated. People said shitty things to James all the time and didn't realize just how shitty they were, because James avoided sharing any details of his past if he could help it.

Even Kendall had only found out because Stephanie liked to interfere.

It was stupid and James wished that he could have told him on his own, the way he wanted. He didn't know how long it would have taken him to finally tell the whole story, but James had a feeling it would have been good for him.

"You can't save me from everything," James said, trying to hide his sniff. "I'm plenty tough."

Kendall's arms snaked around James' shoulders and pulled him close, his face tucking into James' neck. "I know, believe me, I know. But that doesn't mean I like it when you get hurt. You deserve better. You've always deserved better."

"You didn't know me back then," James muttered because it was easier to argue petty details than it was to accept that statement. He kept waiting for Kendall to force him to turn around and look him in the eye. To see the tear streaks on his cheeks. But Kendall seemed to understand that this was a step too far, and to James' surprise, didn't push.

"I can't believe you've changed so much," Kendall said softly. "I bet I would have loved the younger you just as much."

James' breath snagged. Had he just...No. No, it wasn't possible. It was just a phrase. Kendall didn't really mean it. He couldn't.

"Ha," James laughed unsteadily. "You know me well."

"I keep wanting to know you better," Kendall said.

Somehow it was easier to say without having to look Kendall in the eye. "Before you even came to LA, I wanted that." Kendall's fingers tightened on James' shirt at that, the tips digging into his skin.

"How did we get so mixed up?" Kendall asked, and James wasn't even sure he wanted to answer.

"We're both stubborn," seemed the most obvious answer. "But I think we're learning to compromise." He wanted to hope, out loud, that it wouldn't be too late, but they both knew better. They'd wasted their last chance, and the best hope they would have was for some part of the concept to be salvaged and for them both not to be fired.

It wasn't much of a hope, but it was something. Maybe they wouldn't end up separated by six hours on I-5. Maybe out of the disaster of the last few weeks, something good could still grow.

James turned and before Kendall could say anything, kissed him hard. Saying everything he couldn't say out loud. It was incomprehensible that each kiss could be better than the last, but it was like they were slowly learning each other. They'd been so out of sync before, but that was changing.

It would be stupid and pointless to say that he wished it had happened sooner, but James still burned with it.

"Okay, you two are cute."

Kendall broke away, and another one of the roommates was standing in the entrance of the kitchen. Logan, James thought with a resigned sigh. At least he'd been nicer than Jett. Not that that was particularly difficult.

"And I think your tomato sauce is burning," Logan added, crossing to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. He glanced over at the pot. "You're making Italian."

"Ratatouille," Kendall said, returning to his pots and pans like James hadn't just almost poured his heart out. But if James looked close, he could see a tiny tremble in Kendall's hands, and he couldn't ever remember seeing them anything but perfectly steady.

"So, you're dating now?" Logan asked, and James couldn't help but notice his causal look sharpened a bit and also that he directed his question at James, not Kendall.

He'd regretted telling Beau that they weren't dating from the moment the words had left his mouth, and the look in Kendall's eyes when he'd said them.

"Yes," James said, and the world didn't stop spinning and the floor stayed shockingly level.

Kendall turned around and the joy in his smile was worth how terrifying that had been.

"I guess we are," Kendall said.

"I'm glad," Logan said, smiling softly at the two of them. James had a feeling that Jett wouldn't be quite so glad.

"What's this?" the man in question asked, entering the kitchen, hair damp and eyes narrowed. "You're dating now?"

James lifted his chin. He really hoped Jett wouldn't continue being an asshole to him, but if he did, then he would deal with it. It wasn't like Jett was the first jerk he'd ever been confronted with. He wasn't entirely sure still what Kendall had meant when he'd said he loved him, but suddenly he didn't care if Jett didn't like him.

It wouldn't mean that Kendall liked him any less.

"We are," James said.

"That's stupid," Jett said, shaking his head. Like they were the first people to ever work together and date.

"It's sort of a tradition at Five Points. Unofficially of course. But you know about Liam Maxwell and Alex Patton of course. And our boss, Dak, he's been dating Chris for a few years now."

Jett's eyes darkened. "Aren't you all so fucking cute?" he sneered.

James realized with a jolt that Jett wasn't just simply being an asshole; he was _jealous_.

Whether he was jealous of whoever Kendall was with or just jealous in general, it was hard to say, but if James had to guess, it was probably a combination. After all, he wasn't exactly going to find the love of his life walking around acting like a jerk.

Of course, there were some guys who liked that, but James couldn't believe that would lead to a lasting, loving relationship.

"Yes, I'm sure it must be hard to hear about so many happy couples," James retorted.

Jett glared and he left the kitchen without a single word. Like James had just discovered his biggest secret. Or worst-kept secret, as far as he was concerned. Was it possible that Kendall really didn't know how Jett felt?

Should James tell him? Or if he found out, would he drop James like a hot potato and run back to his ex-roommate? James squirmed internally; he didn't want to be selfish, but it had _not_ been easy to get to this place with Kendall. Was it wrong of him to not want to jeopardize it now that they'd figured some stuff out?

"Jett can be…"

"Jett," Logan piped up. He was cute and eager, like a golden retriever puppy. And thankfully, James got zero vibes from him that he was interested in Kendall, making James instantly like him.

"I know it sounds hard to believe, but he really does grow on you," Kendall said.

"Like a bad mold?" James asked, raising an eyebrow. He glanced over to where Kendall was meticulously arranging the squash and zucchini in an intricate swirling pattern over the bed to tomato sauce.

Logan laughed, and Kendall huffed, fingers hesitating as he placed the last few vegetables into the dish. It didn't look like dinner, it looked like a work of art.

"Do you always make stuff that looks perfect?" James asked, which was a stupid question he already knew the answer to. He just didn't want to talk about Jett anymore, because his obvious feelings made James feel disloyal.

"I think he's incapable of making stuff that doesn't look flawless," Logan said. "But he almost never makes dinner. That's usually Carlos or Jett."

"And Jett is still pissed at me for leaving, so we'd probably get paté foam or something equally odd, and Carlos is…" Kendall glanced up, questioning gaze directed at Logan. "Where is Carlos?"

Logan shrugged. "He was right behind us. He came in with us. My guess is he's holed up in his room, skyping with his nana."

"They had to move her to a home last year," Kendall explained as he slid the dish into the oven. "Carlos is very close to her, and it's hard on him."

James wanted to ask who "they" were, because growing up with no family of his own had always made him morbidly curious about other people's. But before he could figure out how to politely phrase the question, Logan answered it.

"His dad left him and his brothers when they were very young, and then his mom died five years ago. Breast cancer complications. So it's just his two brothers and his nana."

"To be honest," Kendall said, "I've never liked his brothers."

"They're weird jocks," Logan said. "I don't like them either."

"I don't think they contribute enough to help pay Nana's expenses," Kendall said. "And besides that, like Logan said, they're weird jocks."

Kendall shot James a quick searching look before returning to the stove, but James didn't volunteer anything. Maybe if he and Kendall had been alone. Maybe if he had felt ready to share. But they weren't and he didn't. Not nearly. So he said nothing.

"Do I smell Italian?" Carlos thankfully entered the kitchen a moment or two after they'd just finished talking about him. Not that he seemed like the sort of guy who would mind. He had a grounded attitude that James had immediately liked even though they'd only met briefly.

He was still trying to figure out why on earth these three great guys tolerated Jett's annoying attitude.

"Dinner will be ready in twenty," Kendall said. "I'm gonna prep the bread if you want to set the table?"

Carlos raised an eyebrow at Logan as he poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle on the counter. The bottle that happened to be the one Beau had given them. But he didn't bat an eye at the label or ask where they'd gotten it.

Clearly, on Carlos' side that relationship was over.

"Fine," Logan grumbled. James had a feeling that he ended up doing a lot of stuff the others didn't want to do.

"I saw Jett march out of here with a particularly virulent frown on his face. What is he bent out of shape about now?" Carlos asked.

"That he's a miserable old man," Kendall said.

"Well, that isn't new," Carlos chuckled.

"I don't think he took the news that Kendall and I are dating very well," James said, because he was curious to see how Carlos would react to this. Would he guess that Jett was jealous? Was James really the first person to figure this out? That didn't seem possible, but Carlos' expression still remained focused.

"Someday," Carlos said, "he's going to meet someone he actually cares about, and it's going to hurt like hell when his heart grows a few sizes."

"Maybe it's permanently stunted," Logan joked. "That wouldn't surprise me at all."

"But seriously, congrats. You seem like you'll be good for each other," Carlos said, raising his glass. "It's high time Kendall stopped playing it casual and breaking hearts left and right. I'll go get Jett, he shouldn't sit in his room and pout all night."

"He's going to if he wants to," Kendall said.

"Yeah, but he shouldn't," Carlos replied firmly, setting his wine glass at one of the places of the big kitchen table Logan had set. And that convinced James once and for all that Carlos was one of the good guys.

After he'd left the kitchen in search of Jett, James moved closer to Kendall, bumping their shoulders together.

"What happened with Carlos and Beau?" he hissed under his breath. Curiosity was probably going to be the death of him.

Kendall just shrugged though. "You met Beau, he's insufferable."

"But Carlos dated him for a reason in the first place," James insisted.

"Yeah, I think Beau wasn't very happy he wouldn't get serious and introduce him to his family. To his brothers and his nana, rather."

"Yeah," Logan said, wandering over. "His brothers suspect he's gay, but his nana has no idea. She's sort of old-school Irish Catholic and I don't think he believes she'd understand."

The only nice thing about being a foster kid with no family of which to speak of was that when he'd come out, there hadn't really been anyone who cared or objected. James knew that it was definitely not that simple for everyone.

"I remember when I told my high school girlfriend I thought I was gay," Kendall said, "and she just laughed and told me 'of course you are.'"

"Yeah, not everyone is as understanding as your family, Ken," Logan said, and James, who wasn't the world's biggest toucher generally, surprisingly wanted to hug the apprehension out of Logan's eyes.

"It's never easy," James said, even though it had been relatively cut and dry for him. He'd already been in a fairly open foster care situation with so many kids, the guardians hadn't really cared as long as you stayed out of trouble. Being gay hadn't ranked anywhere with getting arrested or burning the house down, so they'd just shrugged and moved on.

"What isn't easy?" Jett asked. He stood in the doorway, Carlos following close behind him. "Dinner wasn't easy? If that was the case I could have helped you out, Knight."

Kendall rolled his eyes. "Dinner was no big deal. Now come sit down before I decide to punch you in the face."

But Jett did as he was told and slumped into the seat at the head of the table, not surprising James at all.

The ratatouille was fragrant with oregano, basil, and garlic; the zucchini and squash tender under the crusty lid of parmesan, the base soft with a zesty tomato sauce.

There was silence for a few minutes as everyone ate, sopping up the sauce with the garlic bread Kendall had prepared.

"So where did you guys go today?" Logan asked.

James remembered how they'd crumpled the paper bag from the winery and buried it so Carlos wouldn't see it.

"Uh…" he said.

"A few wineries," Kendall said and then very casually changed the subject. "I thought we'd do a picnic lunch tomorrow. It's supposed to be a nice day. Carlos, did you take care of that thing I asked you for?"

Carlos nodded, mouth full of ratatouille. "It'll be under your name."

"Great, thanks." Kendall smiled over at James, who was trying to decide if licking his plate clean would be rude.

"That was pretty good," Jett said. "Maybe if your video thing doesn't work out, you can go become a line cook at Olive Garden."

"Next time, I'm going to force you to make yourself Italian food. And it probably won't be as good as mine." Kendall's voice still sounded kind, but he grimaced as he sipped his wine.

"What did you put in the sauce?" Carlos asked. "There's an earthiness in it…"

"James," Kendall said, leaning over, breath brushing his neck, which reminded him that it was only his stomach that was satisfied. "Carlos' nose and taste buds are legendary. He can usually figure out what's in anything."

"But you asked?" James said, crinkling his own nose.

Carlos shrugged. "People don't generally like it when I list their recipe out for them."

"You mean _Jett _doesn't like it," Logan said, laughing.

"I think it's a wild mushroom, maybe? And red wine? A chianti?" Carlos guessed.

"You're half right. Dried mushrooms reconstituted in some tempranillo."

"Damn it, _that _was the earthiness." Carlos tipped his glass to Kendall. "Well, kudos for fooling me."

James hadn't really realized how much Kendall was giving up by leaving Terroir and his three roommates. Yeah, he'd taken a chance on a crossroads career move, but there had been reasons for him to stay in Napa. And a lot of those reasons were sitting at the table with them.

"How did you all meet?" James asked. He was sort of completely desperate to go to the hotel and remind Kendall just who he was dating. And this time he'd only had half a glass of wine.

"Carlos and Kendall met in culinary school. Jett went to school in New York City and we met at Terroir. And I moved in last year, after I graduated and got Chef Bottura's internship," Logan said.

"You mean Chef Bottura's hard labor," Jett said.

"It's not that bad," Logan protested. "It's a really prestigious position."

James saw the concern Jett was voicing reflected in his eyes as well as Kendall and Carlos'. So Jett wasn't off-base or even overreacting.

"That's what they tell you to force you to take all the shit he dishes out," Carlos pointed out quietly.

"I've got an early morning," Logan said, abruptly getting to his feet. "And I'm sure James and Kendall have something important to do."

"You shouldn't push him," Jett said under his breath after Logan had left the room.

"Yeah, but if I don't, then he keeps letting Bottura ride him. And I don't like that either," Carlos said.

"It's gotten worse since I left," Kendall stated rather than questioned.

"I swear to God, he's _obsessed _with him. Logan with Bottura, I mean. And, I don't know, maybe the other way around. It's weird. They're weirdly co-dependent on each other. I don't get it."

"I'll put out some feelers in LA," Kendall said, getting to his feet. "Maybe we can convince him to leave. Take a job in LA."

"Logan ever leaving Terroir and Massimo Bottura? Yeah, good luck with that," Jett said bitterly.

* * *

**Done! So, we revisited Carlos, Jett, and most importantly, Logan this chapter! :P And it seems that James has a suspicion that maybe Jett has feelings for Kendall and is jealous. **

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed and that you all are having a great weekend! Not sure when the next chapter will be up, but it should be up by next weekend, early next week at the latest.**

**Until then! :D**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hello again everyone! New chapter alert! :D**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to Side1ways, winterschild11, Guest, annabellex2, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

James was quiet when they got into the car. Kendall couldn't help but wonder if he'd pushed him too far, or if he was just tired after such a long day. Maybe he should have given him what they both wanted when they'd first gotten to Napa. He'd undoubtedly been eager then, and even though there'd been flashes of it through the day-some white-hot in their intensity-Kendall sensed now that he was deep in thought.

And not about Kendall naked.

"You okay?" he asked.

James glanced up, his hazel eyes unexpectedly bright in the dim car. They slid down Kendall's body, and Kendall thought maybe he'd been overthinking earlier. Maybe nothing had changed.

"Jett really cares about Logan," was all James said, which really surprised Kendall.

James wanted to talk about _Jett_?

Kendall figured they'd been lucky to get out of the house without James punching Jett in the face. Why he wanted to discuss him now, Kendall had no clue.

"Despite his best efforts tonight, he's not a jerk. I mean, he _is_, but not deep down. He's just...disgruntled. And yes, he cares about Logan. We all do. He's like our brother."

James made a humming noise, clearly considering what Kendall had said. They passed by a streetlight, illuminating James' flawless profile-elegant cheekbones, delicate nose, pink lips, sharp jaw-and Kendall realized with a jolt that he had removed his bow tie sometime after they'd gotten into the car for the trip to the hotel.

"Eyes forward," James said, and he was clearly trying to pretend disinterest at the sudden, ravenous heat in Kendall's face, but even he couldn't quite pull it off.

"No fair," Kendall whined. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James flick open one button of his shirt, and then another. And then another. Kendall was pathetic and that was all it took to make him hard anymore-the chance to see James' bare skin.

"You made me wait all day," James said. "It's plenty fair."

"Cruel," Kendall breathed out. Except that they both knew he liked it. James probably thought he'd get to control what happened when they got to the hotel, like he had the other two times they'd had sex, but Kendall, while typically fairly laid-back and open in bed, was more than ready to assert himself.

And then James opened his mouth again. "I think Jett is in love with you."

Kendall almost swerved off the road. "What? No. No way. That's just...that's not possible."

He took a quick, necessary peek to check the expression on James' face. He seemed concerned but not perturbed.

"Would it make a difference if he was?" James asked, and there was a raw honesty in his voice that Kendall had never heard before. Sometimes it was tough for Kendall to even figure out how much James contained and held back behind the wall he'd erected between himself and the world, but hearing him now, Kendall realized just how much James cared about him.

How much James didn't want him to love Jett.

"No. Not a bit."

He chanced another glance over at James. He was smiling now, just a little, around the corners of his mouth, but it was enough.

"You really mean that."

"I mean, have you _met _Jett?" Kendall asked.

"He's disgruntled and bitter and a little grumpy, but he's good-looking. And passionate. Those are two things I think you'd enjoy."

"_You're _what I enjoy."

"I certainly hope so." The smug self-satisfaction in his voice was all Kendall needed to hear to know James was okay.

"I can show you. Soon," Kendall said, and saw James flick another button open. "Soon," he repeated, the word practically a vow.

Kendall had never imagined that he would be making vows of any kind. He'd never imagined he was the sort of guy who craved permanence that way, but James had changed everything.

"You'd better." James sounded just as impatient as Kendall felt.

"Another mile," Kendall said, pushing down harder on the gas. His driver's ed teacher would have been appalled at his driving. Probably also at his life choices, but Kendall really didn't give a fuck anymore.

He whipped into the hotel parking lot. "I'll be back with the key," Kendall said, reaching over, and leaving a brief but scorching kiss on James' mouth that promised everything he meant to do to him tonight.

Even though the desk clerk seemed to be efficient, he wasn't nearly fast enough for Kendall. He pushed over his credit card across the counter and barely managed to refrain from tapping his foot on the marble floor.

Finally, he was given the room key, and he skidded out of the foyer to where he'd parked. James was already out of the car, leaning against the passenger side, an impatient expression on his face.

And then, suddenly and unexpectedly, James let the ever-present wall fall and it was just the real James and him.

Usually he had to coax James out of his shell, and it felt so good to just press him against the car and not feel him hesitate before he kissed him back.

Instead, James threw himself into it, and for Kendal, it almost felt like the first kiss. Their first real kiss. The first time James kissed him and didn't think he was making a mistake, didn't wonder halfway through if it was the wrong thing to do.

He believed it was right and Kendall was right, and Kendall found that he had never believed more in the idea of the two of them against the world.

"James," Kendall said, lips still hovering over James'. They were damp and shiny under the streetlamp and Kendall almost gave in to the need coursing through him and said screw the words.

But Kendall couldn't imagine that James had often gotten actions _or _words, so the words were important.

"Why are you stopping?" James said. Even with the emotional wall down, James was still completely himself. And Kendall found himself enjoying the directness.

"Because we're still, unfortunately, outside. And I want to make love to you. Preferably not against my car in a parking lot."

James' gaze was steady and warm. He didn't flinch, didn't cower, and didn't try to stop Kendall. Didn't try to take control and make sure that Kendall was too lost in pleasure to notice that James was still holding him at arm's length.

"Okay."

XxX

It was so hard to resist the urge to push, to rush, to devour James, but Kendall held back by the skin of his teeth as they walked to the room. He'd even reached out and grasped James' hand, and James let him.

Finally, they were in the room, the door was closing behind them, and Kendall was free to do what he'd been longing to do all damn day.

He led James to the bed and kissed him, slow, but definitely not gentle. Kendall poured every ounce of desire and love into the kiss, hands grasping James tightly around the waist, and then tugging out the shirt he'd tucked into his jeans.

"No khakis today, huh?" Kendall muttered as his lips coasted down James' neck, pausing to nibble on his earlobe. "Taking a break in driving me insane?"

There was a definite catch in James' throat as Kendall plucked open more buttons, his lips moving downwards across his exposed collarbones. They were so delicate, a delicious incongruity with his strength. Kendall would be lying if he said that didn't really turn him on.

"I wasn't sure you could handle the khakis," James said.

"You're not wrong."

"I almost wished I'd worn them," James admitted as Kendall finished unbuttoning his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. Kendall's mouth covered a firm pec muscle, then nibbled not very gently on his nipple. James gasped.

"Because I deserved it?"

"No," James said on another gasp as Kendall's mouth moved to the other nipple. "Because I was jealous."

The idea was ludicrous but Kendall didn't laugh because _one_, he had his tongue on James' glorious bare skin, tan and smooth and taut with the perfect amount of muscle, and _two_, this was Jett they were talking about. He couldn't even conceive of ditching James for Jett.

Kendall's hands unbuckled James' belt. His cock was hard and just as Kendall hoped, James gasped even louder. Suddenly he hoped, despite what he'd experienced so far, that James was loud and expressive in bed.

It was hard to imagine any interaction between them not being explosive and devoid of a power struggle, but unlike the frustration that had dogged them before, Kendall was definitely turned on by it.

"Maybe," he gasped himself, undone by James bucking firmly into his palm, "we just should have been fucking from the beginning."

James' look as Kendall pushed him back onto the bed and rid him of his clothes, was hot. Intimate. Everything Kendall had really wanted, even back then, and had never expected to get.

"Maybe we should just fuck now," James said, purring as he flipped over and pushed himself up, sending a spike of unrestrained lust through Kendall.

Kendall was still fully clothed and despite James' wandering hands, hadn't really been touched since they'd left the house. He was still suddenly in very grave danger of coming in his pants.

"I...I…" Kendall stammered, undone by the sight in front of him. James was glorious naked, the most beautiful man Kendall had ever seen. He couldn't have even fantasized about how good he would look like this. "I was going to take it slow."

James' glance over his shoulder was scorching. "Not after this whole day, you're not."

Some things, Kendall realized, were inevitable and not worth fighting.

He grabbed the lube and a condom from a bag and shed his clothes so quickly, he was almost afraid he'd lost buttons.

But instead of immediately prepping James to take him, Kendall leaned onto the bed and covered James' body with his own, skin to skin. Letting him feel how hard he was just from touching James and seeing him naked.

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered into James' ear as he kissed his neck. "So fucking glorious."

"I know," James said, so smug that Kendall couldn't help but love him even more. "Now stop fucking around and fuck me."

Kendall would have been very stupid to argue that point.

His hands smoothed over the curve of the ass he'd been watching and worshipping for so many weeks. James made a low groan as Kendall carefully circled his entrance with a wet finger.

"Stop teasing," James groaned as his body clutched around the digit Kendall slid into him. "Goddamn it, Kendall."

"If you're still talking," Kendall said with a grin, "I'm not doing right."

"Exactly," James wrenched out, as Kendall pulled his finger out, only to slide two back in.

James felt so incredible, tight and hot, around his fingers, his body greedily clutching to them as Kendall finger fucked him. He had a sudden, horrifying thought that he wouldn't be able to make it good. Make it last.

"Slow down a little," Kendall panted, which was embarrassing because he wasn't even the one being fucked.

James pushed his body right back on Kendall's fingers at that particular demand. "_No_."

Taking a deep breath, Kendall knew they'd waited long enough. He knew he could please this man. Felt it in his bones. It was time to show him just how much he cared about him.

He made short work of the condom and slid his fingers around James' erection, circling it firmly as he began to push into James. Pleasure short-circuited his brain, fierce and electric. He could only swear as he bottomed out, gripping James' hip and his cock.

"Move," James hissed and so Kendall pushed back his own pleasure and focused on the man in front of him. The man he loved.

Maybe James couldn't accept the words yet, but he could accept this.

Kendall set as powerful a rhythm as he dared, his gasps echoing James' as he thrust. It was almost too much as James started to push back, to demand more, greedy and perfect, his cock thrusting into Kendall's curled hand, his ass taking everything Kendall was giving and demanding more.

James let out a long, drawn-out moan, louder than Kendall had ever dreamt, and came into his hand. Kendall barely had a moment to enjoy the clench of his body before he fell off the cliff too, fingers digging into James' skin as he orgasmed.

For a half moment, Kendall didn't move. It was impossible, but he still wanted to stay like this forever. He'd never felt closer to James.

"Here," James said in a small, hesitant voice, reaching over and handing a towel to Kendall so he could clean up.

The very last thing Kendall wanted was for James to decide this had also been a mistake. So he carefully pulled out and smoothed a reassuring hand down James' back.

"I'll be right back," he promised.

James was sitting on the edge of the bed when he returned, and he wordlessly took the warm, damp cloth Kendall handed him.

"Thank you," he said. "But I think I might just take a shower. Is that okay?"

Kendall wasn't going to stop him. He might have wanted to join him, but he also wasn't sure he could keep standing another moment. The bed was calling him.

"Sure, of course. I'm just going to lie down."

"Yeah, it's been a long day."

XxX

The shower went on and on, and Kendall lay in bed, wondering if everything really was okay. Was James going to come back to bed emotionally restrained again? Was he going to say, with his actions and not his words, that they'd made another mistake?

Kendall squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that wouldn't happen. He'd never really been in love before, but he was pretty sure being in love alone sucked. He didn't want to know what that felt like.

Finally, the shower shut off, and Kendall watched as James came out of the bathroom, towel around his waist.

"This is a nice place," he said as he rummaged in his bag. "The water pressure is excellent."

Was this what they'd been reduced to? Talking about water pressure? Kendall dreaded what subject James would bring up next; whatever it was probably making very clear to Kendall that he needed space.

But instead, James climbed in bed after pulling on a pair of clean briefs, and to Kendall's shock, laid his head on his bare chest.

They were quiet for a while, Kendall trying to absorb what was happening, James probably trying not to freak out.

Finally James spoke, in a quiet voice, just as hesitant as he'd been after sex. "Is this okay?"

"More than okay. I love it," Kendall said. _I love you._

James took a deep, unsteady breath, and said, "I'm not good at this."

"It's okay. I'm not sure I am either," Kendall confessed.

"You're better at it than you think," James said wryly.

"It matters to me that you know I care about you," Kendall said carefully.

A sigh. "I know."

"This is probably the wrong time," James continued. "But I should tell you, so I'm going to." He took another deep breath. "My parents died when I was two. I don't really remember them. I lived in ten foster homes. The last one, I was there for three years. I moved out when I turned eighteen. I didn't look back."

Kendall's fingers gripped James' damp skin. "I'm glad you told me."

"I'm not good at letting other people control me," James said, and the unspoken end of that sentence was, _because too many people controlled me before._

"I'm not going to control you," Kendall promised. "And if I ever do, feel free to kick my ass."

"I'm going to hold you to that," James said, his voice was growing drowsy. Kendall realized that this was all part of letting down his emotional guard, and that staying the night was part of it. That trusting Kendall enough to touch him like this was another. They had come so far from those first distrustful days, and Kendall could only hope that when they returned to LA, he could convince Dak of that.

XxX

Kendall had never understood why people committed themselves and their hearts by falling in love. It had always seemed like a very risky proposition with a lot to lose and very little to gain.

But somehow, the morning was better when he and James woke up together, both smiling bashfully, and the sun brighter as they sat on the hill by the Castello di Amorosa and nibbled at meat and cheese that Kendall had spent too much money for.

Even the champagne was more effervescent on his tongue as they did a tasting at Domaine Carneros.

He'd gone to bed almost certain that James would wake up and the emotional wall blocking Kendall out would be back in place, but to his own surprise, he'd watched the whole day as James worked to keep it down.

Kendall could tell it didn't come naturally, but his heart was nearly bursting at how hard James was trying to make things work between them. They would probably never be able to avoid a power struggle-even for a laid-back guy, Kendall had difficulty relinquishing control, which he knew was a bad habit he'd picked up in the restaurant kitchens he'd worked in-but there could be spice in a little day-to-day friction.

The most important thing was that James understood that Kendall was in this for the long haul. He was done cutting and running; he was done pretending anything other than this partnership had been life-altering.

But even through the great afternoon, Kendall had wondered in the back of his mind about what James had insisted last night.

There was no way that Jett felt that way about him and he'd somehow missed it. Kendall knew he wasn't the most observant person in the world, especially about relationships, but surely Jett couldn't have liked him _that _way without him realizing. They'd lived and worked together for years.

It was impossible.

And yet, Kendall couldn't dismiss it completely. Not because he was at all tempted to ditch James for Jett-but because it didn't feel right to come up here and flaunt his new relationship, all while his friend was hurting.

He needed to know. So he kissed James goodbye at the hotel, told him to take a long soak in the tub, said he'd be back before they needed to leave for dinner and headed to Terroir to confront Jett before dinner service started.

XxX

"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be blinding the whole Valley with your annoying PDA?" Jett sneered as he added finishing touches to the sauces at his station.

He had a magic touch with sauces that even Massimo Bottura didn't have-not that the head chef ever would have admitted that. But Jett had been doing the sauces very early on in his tenure at Terroir and that could only mean one thing.

"Come in the dining room in a few hours, and I'm sure we could oblige you," Kendall said. He wasn't technically supposed to be in the kitchens since he didn't work here anymore, but he'd left on relatively good terms, and he didn't think anyone would kick him out. Maybe.

He shoved his hands in his black pants. "Why are you so angry?" he asked Jett point blank, because he needed to make this quick before someone saw him, and also because he was sick of fucking around. Love had definitely shown him how vital it was to value what was really important.

"Nature? Habit? Preference?" Jett paused. "Take your pick, and then get out of this kitchen. You don't work here anymore."

"Here's the thing, Jett, you're not mad at everyone like you're mad at me. And it's new, since I left. So what's the deal? You're angry I moved on and left Napa? Left Terroir?"

Jett's aborted, angry hand movements told Kendall only part of the story. He needed to know _why _Jett was so pissed.

"You've always been free to do whatever the fuck you wanted," Jett muttered.

"It was all me, you know that right? I was bored as fuck here, you know that, I know you do." Kendall didn't like how defensive he sounded, but maybe he was feeling guiltier than he liked over Jett's anger.

Jett's feelings weren't entirely his problem, but maybe they were a little his fault.

"Not everything is about you." Jett's knife flew over a bundle of chives. Then basil. Then Italian parsley. He was just about finished with the sauces, and then the dinner service would begin. Jett was an asshole, but he was a punctual asshole.

In five minutes, the line would be crowded with chefs. Kendall tried not to panic and threw his Hail Mary pass. "James said that you were in love with me, and that's why you were angry I left."

Jett's eyes flew to his, shocked and belligerent. But he didn't deny it. "James is a nosy bastard. That might seem cute now, but you'll get sick of it. You can't take high maintenance, and he's the King of High Maintenance Land."

The irony of that statement was hilarious, but Kendall was limited on time.

"Are you?"

Jett slapped his knife down on his cutting board, sifting tiny circles of chives onto the floor. "Why does it matter?"

Kendall was torn between strangling him and hugging him. "It matters."

"I wasn't in love with you, you egotistical bastard. Did I think...maybe? Once or twice? Sure." Jett's soft voice contradicted the way he furiously stirred the mustard sauce he'd made his own since starting at Terroir. Kendall had seen him make it a thousand times since they'd met, and it occurred to him suddenly that he probably wouldn't ever see him make it again.

And even though leaving this place had felt easy and like the right thing to do, emotion suddenly strangled him.

"Life is about change, Jett," Kendall said softly when he thought he could speak without embarrassing himself. "And we would have been a flaming disaster. You know that too."

"And?" Jett snapped. "It's not like you and Prince Charming have had an easy go of it so far."

"No, but we're getting there." He paused. "Jett...please. Don't hate me. In six months or six years, you're going to realize that you're done here too, and you'll leave."

"Maybe." Jett's testy tone had faded a little. Not much, but enough to give Kendall hope.

"I know you're not going to be happy making Bottura's sauces for him your entire career. You're too talented for that, and you know it."

"I do." Jett stirred basil into another saucepan, and Kendall realized with a pang that he didn't even know this sauce. It had been invented since he'd been gone. And that hurt more than he could have dreamt.

"Moving on is hard, but it's worth it. There's a whole life you can experience when you open your eyes."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to be up here, pining after your sorry ass." But Jett flashed a bright, quicksilver smile and it was enough that Kendall knew he'd done the right thing coming here and talking to him.

"I wouldn't expect you to," Kendall retorted fondly. "It's not that good of an ass."

Jett chuckled, but quickly sobered.

"Um...can you…"

"Yes?" Kendall prompted.

"Can you tell James I'm sorry. I know I was an asshole to him. Well, more of an asshole than usual, and he didn't deserve that."

Kendall couldn't fight that smile that tugged at his lips.

"I'll relay the message."

"Thanks," Jett said, a small smile tugging at his own lips. "Now get out of here before Bottura sees you and does something horrible."

"Throws me out?"

"No, forces you back into an apron."

* * *

**Done! So...yeah. :P This was pretty much a Kames-fest with a Jett appearance at the end.**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed and that you all are having a great week so far! The next chapter will pick up not too long after this one and will cover Kames' last day in Napa. That'll be up either this weekend or next week sometime.**

**Until then!**

**-Epically Obsessed**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome back to Explosive! :D**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter. I would also like to give a huge thank you to RainbowDiamonds, winterschild11, Side1ways, Guest, and annabellex2 for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

"Did you go talk to Jett?" James asked, forcing his voice to remain light and casual. He shouldn't care if Kendall had gone to talk to his friend; it had been the right thing to do to clear the air. It had just been impossible for James to think of the conversation without the very slightest waver of concern.

Kendall and Jett had known each other for years. Jett was a great chef, talented and intense, probably the sort of person that Kendall had always imagined he'd end up with.

He definitely couldn't have foretold that he'd end up falling for someone like James.

Even James, who'd secretly been harboring a little crush after spending so many hours watching Pastry by Kendall, couldn't have predicted it. It still felt very new and like the slightest bump could derail it.

Of course, if the last three weeks hadn't stopped it from happening, then he should consider their relationships inevitable.

"I talked to him, yeah. Everything's good," Kendall said, sitting on the bed next to James, resting a hand on his knee casually like it didn't still cause fireworks to explode under James' skin. He was never going to get used to touching so casually; each touch still felt momentous and important.

James told himself that it was in Kendall's nature to share less and his own to be inquisitive. He still couldn't help himself from asking, "Did he admit to it?"

"Not exactly. But I think he'll be okay."

James felt like a terrible person for not caring if Jett would be okay. Of course Kendall did; James still felt too threatened to be so selfless.

"What are we doing for dinner?" James asked brightly, changing the subject. The last thing Kendall needed was to find out that he felt unsure still, _especially _unsure about Jett. Especially because Kendall himself had given James zero reasons to be concerned.

It wasn't Kendall's fault that James was, and would probably be for some time to come, a neurotic, insecure mess.

"I want to take you somewhere special," Kendall said, his soulful gaze making James' heartbeat skip.

"You know," he giggled a little self-consciously, "I never imagined you were such a romantic."

Kendall smiled. "Oh, yeah, you did. You dreamed about it."

This was so completely accurate that James blushed.

"Does that mean you're going to let me spoil you?" Kendall asked.

"Spoil me how?" James told himself firmly not to be apprehensive because wasn't that what every lonely, miserable boy of twelve that nobody gave two shits about dreamed of? Someone making an effort? Someone trying to impress them even if it wasn't particularly hard?

Why then was it so hard for James to accept?

If James had ever been able to open up to a therapist-and he had _tried_, but therapists wanted you to talk about yourself and he never could- he was sure they would have been able to tell him why. As it was, James had his suspicions.

"I'm going to take you to the best restaurant in Napa," Kendall said.

James had a sudden, horrified thought that he knew exactly what Kendall meant. "You're taking me to Terroir."

Kendall blushed. "I did say the best restaurant in Napa."

"I'm not sure your ego is going to fit through the doorway," James teased. It was easier to poke fun than to face what Kendall was trying to do.

He couldn't think about it without his hand trembling, so he reached over and gripped Kendall's hand hard.

"You're gonna love it," Kendall promised, eyes soft, like he knew exactly what had James reaching for him like a lifeline.

It would have been so natural for James to just say back, "I love _you_," because he was pretty damn sure he did. Kendall had hardly made a secret of his own feelings, but they still felt so inexplicable to James.

James kissed him instead, hard and hot, both a promise for later and as a replacement for everything he couldn't say. _Yet_, he swore to himself, but even James didn't have a clue when he'd be able to.

XxX

If James had imagined that they might be treated any differently because Kendall had worked at Terroir, he was incredibly wrong.

From what he could see, the same excruciatingly perfect service was given to every guest as they checked in at the gracious patio that served as the open-air waiting room. Vines dripping with grapes wrapped around the wood beams, arcing over their heads as they waited for their table to be ready.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" Kendall asked.

If going to wine tastings had been intimidating, it was nothing compared to standing at the entrance to the throne room of American dining. Did he want a glass of wine? James thought he _needed _one if he was going to make it through without breaking into a sweat or declaring loudly that he wasn't worthy.

"Sure," James said.

Kendall was only at the bar for a second, and of course, he got the best service, because the bartender's eyes lit up when he spotted Kendall. He returned with two flutes of sparkling wine.

"Cheers," he said, tapping James' glass with his own. "To the best weekend I've ever had."

"You mean, the part where we weren't being insulted by your old roommates?" James teased, enjoying the light that heated Kendall's eyes. He knew exactly which parts those were. Making love in the hotel room. Feeding each other bits of fresh bread in the meadow this morning, making out in the grass and not feeling the tiniest bit ashamed if anyone saw.

"I mean the part where I got to meet the relaxed you," Kendall said.

James froze. How could he have forgotten Dak's admonishment as they left?

"Though," Kendall continued thoughtfully, "I really like all the parts of you. Even the part that shoots daggers out of his eyes at me."

"You like that part?" James asked incredulously.

Kendall's gaze took on a conspiratorial glint. "I _love _that part. It's sexy as hell knowing you want to kick my ass and that you absolutely will if I take a step out of line."

Something unwound in James at Kendall's words. There had been a tiny kernel of doubt that had wondered if he would have to be on his best behavior from now on. If he would have to be the sweet, relaxed James 24/7. Because there was no chance in hell of that happening.

"Don't worry," Kendall said casually, "you know I love you."

James was torn between the eye-dagger-shooting thing or just dumping his champagne all over Kendall's sharp black button-down, but then the designer-clad hostess approached, telling them their table was ready.

Their table wasn't on the patio, which from the reading James had done was considered a prime spot, but it was still near a huge bank of windows that overlooked the valley.

"I couldn't get the patio," Kendall apologized after they sat down. "It was too late of notice. And even I don't have that sort of power."

"I'm impressed you got a table at all," James said. He wasn't disappointed they weren't on the patio. How could he be when he was here at all? The most any of his pseudo-dates had ever done was bring over Chinese or pizza before a hookup.

Kendall had brought him to Terroir. The place he'd once described as the finest restaurant in America. The only Michelin-starred restaurant in California.

"Cna you blame me for trying to impress you?" Kendall said, reaching over and brushing his hand over James' knuckles.

James hid behind the menu, most of which was incomprehensible to him. He didn't know what half the words meant, and he didn't think he could really get away with Googling them on his phone.

"Uh, yes," James said. "I was impressed by you before we even met."

"But then I made a shitty impression," Kendall grinned charmingly, "so I'm just making up for lost time."

"Well, if that's the way you're going to play it, then figure out what I should be trying," James said, smiling back and feeling lighter than he had in a long time. Maybe ever.

This must be what relaxing felt like. Or maybe it was love. It was fabulous either way, and he felt as light as the bubbles in his champagne flute. If anyone, especially Jett, tried to take this away from him, they were going to find out just how hardcore James Diamond could be.

"Yes, sir," Kendall snorted, and James couldn't help it, he burst into laughter.

Suddenly he was very sure it was going to be one of the greatest meals of his life, and that had nothing to do with the food.

XxX

James was really damn sure it wasn't just because of the food when Massimo Bottura showed up at the table between the main course and dessert.

"Kendall Knight," Chef Bottura said, a self-satisfied edge to his voice, like he'd believed that Kendall really couldn't stay away and that belief was now justified.

He was a powerful man, with short dark hair, intensely dark eyes, and a pair of serious biceps bulging under his immaculate black chef's jacket.

James was struck a little dumb. It wasn't his finest moment, but pictures didn't do Massimo Bottura justice. He looked like he could snap his neck just as easily as he could a chicken's. James swallowed hard when Bottura turned his attention to Kendall's dining companion.

Him.

"You're the individual who lured Kendall away from my kitchen with promises he'd be famous," Bottura said, a crease forming between his brows.

James decided he might as well own it; if Bottura killed him in the middle of his restaurant, then at least he'd die a happy man. "Yes, I did."

Kendall blustered across from him, a frown on his face. "That's not exactly true," he said.

James smiled. "Maybe next season when Kendall is on The Cooking Channel, we can invite you to guest star with him."

Bottura clearly didn't like that idea at all.

"Food doesn't need fame," he said. "Was the food up to the standard?" he questioned, directing it to Kendall.

James supposed he should be a little offended, but then Kendall was the professional chef between them. What would James know, besides everything had been delectable and incredible?

"Your lamb was a little overcooked," Kendall said, laughing. James thought that if Bottura killed both of them, Kendall would go out happy too. A month ago, that might not have meant much to James, but it meant everything tonight.

Bottura practically growled. "I forgot, you're a pastry chef." Then he smiled, and it was like the sunrise over the desert. James was surprised at how handsome he was when he wasn't wordlessly threatening people's lives.

"Dessert is still to come," Kendall said with a lot of satisfaction. "Tell Mateo that he'd better send his best."

Bottura gave a sharp nod before turning to James. "Even I have to admit that he's happy. Happier than he ever was when he was here." He said, jerking his head in Kendall's direction. "Thank you for giving him what he needed."

When Bottura left, just as abruptly as he'd arrived, Kendall giggled. It might have more to do with the thrill of love than the wine they'd drunk tonight or even the fantastic food-no matter what Kendall said about the lamb.

"What exactly is it you're giving me that I need?" Kendall asked with a quiet snort, probably thinking James was going to say something dirty and inappropriate. And ninety-nine percent of the time, James probably would have. It wasn't like his wall was coming down; instead, it felt like he was welcoming Kendall inside.

James hoped the truth of it was in his eyes when he replied, "Everything I can."

* * *

Later that night, lying in bed with James drowsing against his chest, the TV turned on low, a text came through on his phone.

Leaning over, he must have shifted James too much when he reached over to grab it, because he made a sleepy, annoyed noise.

"Sorry," Kendall said. "It's Katie."

"Katie?" James asked, and Kendall felt like a shitty brother, or maybe just a shitty person. How had he not texted her lately? How had he not told James about Katie?

"Katie is my younger sister," he said. "We're close. Well, we used to be, I mean we still are, she's just in her freshman year of college in Berkeley and we've both been a little busy."

James propped himself up on an elbow, hair mussed, eyes glowing in the dim light of the room. He stopped Kendall's heart, because only in his wildest dreams had he imagined he'd get to see the other man like this.

"Is she okay?" James asked.

Kendall didn't know what had given it away. The late hour, maybe? Or his own worried expression?

The text had said: _**You're in Napa and no text?**_

Kendall had felt guilty enough that he hadn't told James about Katie; now he was feeling doubly guilty.

A second text came in before Kendall could even reply to the first. _**If I keep guilt-tripping you, will you let me meet him? Brunch. Noon.**_

"Jett," Kendall growled. He was _really _regretting introducing Katie to Jett. There was always another shoe to drop with him. He'd assumed things were good between them after their conversation today, but then he'd gone and texted Katie and told her all about James.

"What did he do now?" James didn't seem particularly concerned, which was good, because he had nothing to be jealous of.

"He interfered," Kendall said reluctantly. Was he ready for Katie for meet James? Was _James _ready to meet Katie?

"Isn't that what he's best at?" James muttered.

"My sister wants us to stop by Berkeley so she can meet you tomorrow," Kendall said. "I'm guessing she got a whole series of texts from Jett after he got off work."

James' arm was still across Kendall's bare chest, so he couldn't help but feel him tense.

"Is that okay?" Kendall asked gently. It seemed so unfair that he could have this whole incredible, infuriating, _real _relationship with his sister, and James had nobody.

"Are you asking if I'm ready to meet your sister or if I'm okay that I don't have a sister?" James questioned.

Kendall flushed. It was a good thing they'd both been lowering their shields, but he hadn't realized he was so easy for James to read.

"It's okay," James continued with a little smile. "Lots of people don't have sisters or brothers, I just happened to be one of them. I'd love to meet her, if you're good with it."

They'd acknowledged to each other and to several others that they were dating now, but it was definitely something more for James to meet his family. Kendall's heart had made the commitment already, there was no going back from that, but now he had to make sure his head was on the same page.

"I'm good with it," he decided. As if there had been any other decision he could make. James would torture him slowly and Katie would help James finish him off.

He was in this now, and the truth was, he _wanted _to be.

"Then I guess we're going to lunch with your sister," James said. He seemed calm enough. "I'm glad I brought another bow tie."

"Someday," Kendall said, cradling James in his arms, and then suddenly rolling him underneath his body, hovering above him. He let his hips drop, flush and hard, against James'. "I'm going to tie you up with those fucking bow ties."

James' gaze was bright and challenging. Kendall couldn't get enough of it. "I'd love to see you try," he said.

And how was Kendall supposed to ignore a challenge like that?

* * *

James didn't think he was nervous-at least not precisely nervous. Apprehensive was probably the better term. It wasn't like he could do research to help him feel more comfortable; Katie was a person, not a location or a task or an activity. Any research he did should be restricted to brunch, conducted by actually _talking _to her.

He'd never had to go to brunch with a sibling of a boyfriend before. He wasn't sure he'd ever really had a boyfriend before, definitely not in the sense that he and the other guy had actually agreed that's what they were. He'd had half-assed relationships, he guessed, if that was what it meant when you drifted together, spent time together, slept together sometimes, and eventually drifted apart.

But nobody had ever wanted him to meet their family before. And it wasn't like James had any family for them to meet. None of the handful of guys in college had even known he was a foster kid; it definitely wasn't something he'd ever talked about.

But Kendall knew, and he didn't care. It certainly seemed like he was more worried about James' feelings than if Katie approved.

"She's going to love you," Kendall said as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. His smile was sweet and reassuring.

"I'm not worried about that. People usually like me." James shot Kendall a coolly sardonic look. "You're the only one who didn't, and that turned out okay."

Kendall laughed. "I did too like you."

"You had a very strange way of showing it," James retorted as they got out of the car.

Kendall caught James' arm as they walked towards the entrance. "You should...um...definitely stay quiet about that part of it," he murmured. "Especially to Katie."

James might not have had any blood-related siblings, but he knew exactly how this worked. "So she can't give you any shit about it, right?" He grinned. "I don't think so."

"You're so cruel," Kendall groaned in exaggeration. "I'm not sure this was a good idea."

But then a voice yelled Kendall's name, and James had the luck to see Kendall's face the moment a girl with long, brown hair came into view.

James had already figured out that Katie meant a lot to Kendall, but seeing the joy on his face, then watching them wrap each other up in a tight, prolonged hug, made it crystal clear.

The first thing Katie did when Kendall released her was turn towards James.

"Hello," she said in a friendly, conspiring voice. "You must be James, the sucker Kendall conned into dating him." She extended a hand and James shook it immediately. She turned to her brother. "You didn't tell me how _hot _he is!"

Kendall flushed, and James was greatly amused at his discomfort. "But," Katie continued with a quick, clever grin, "I shouldn't be surprised at all. I know what this one is like. But you, you I'm definitely looking forward to getting to know better."

Katie tucked her arm in his without prompting, and the stacked turquoise bracelets on her arm rattled.

"I'm hoping so," James said, and to his own complete surprise, he meant it.

Kendall threw his hands up in the air and made noises about going to get them a table.

"First, you need to tell me if he ever apologized to you," Katie said.

James was more than a little shocked that she knew so much. "No. Yes. Just...not exactly precisely when he should have."

Katie's expression was grave, belying the flushed excitement on her cheeks. "He's sort of an oblivious asshole, sometimes. But I guess I don't need to tell you that."

James laughed. "No, no, you don't. I know what I'm getting with him."

"Good." She leaned closer, bracelets clanking again. "Jett told me he took you to Terroir last night. Was it amazing?"

"It was terrifying, intimidating and incredible," James said.

"Kendall tried to take me there once and I told him over my dead body. I'm much more comfortable grabbing a burger."

"Don't worry," Kendal said dryly, "I'm sure you can get a burger here."

"It's breakfast, idiot," Katie replied, all deadpan voice and sparkling eyes. "That means bacon and eggs and something sinful, like a cinnamon roll or a Danish as big as my head."

Kendall ruffled her hair affectionately. "I'll have to send you a box of goodies. We've got tons of extras in my freezer. Some of them actually edible."

"Don't believe him," James inserted. "All of the ones he saved are definitely edible. More than."

"Oh, I like you," Katie said. "A lot. You're going to be _great _for him."

James looked steadily over at Kendall, who was still beaming at his sister. "I'm sure as hell going to try."

Reaching over, Katie squeezed his hand. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

James was sort of glad that this was the moment the hostess called Kendall's name to let them know their table was ready. He was a little mistier in the eyes than he felt comfortable being, especially with someone he didn't know, even if that someone was Kendall's sister.

XxX

"And I'll have the pineapple upside-down pancakes," James said to the waitress who was taking their order. "And a side of bacon. Extra crispy, please."

"I'll have all this right out," the waitress said, stuffing her pad back in her apron and moving on to the next table.

James only knew something was wrong by the strangled, stifled noise Kendall made.

It hit him all at once. So long, being _so_ careful, _so_ cautious, never visibly enjoying any of the cookies he'd been making, or the macarons, or even the incredible dessert last night at Terroir.

No, all it took to screw him up was Katie beaming at him like an idiot, casually accepting, like he was going to be around for a long time. Like he was going to be a member of their family.

Kendall made the sound again.

"What's wrong with him?" Katie asked, taking a sip of coffee.

"I think he just discovered that I like sweets," James said evenly.

Katie looked confused. Kendall looked murderous.

"Explain," Katie said, looking rapidly more interested by the second.

But before James could open his mouth, Kendall had cut in. And he sounded pretty pissed, but not cruel, or cold, or truly angry, which was better than James could have hoped for. After all, there had only been a limited amount of time he could keep this secret while dating an extremely talented pastry chef.

"The second day James and I worked together, he told me that he didn't like sweet things. No desserts. No cookies. No pastries. Nothing. And he," Kendall said, mouth twitching, like it was difficult for him to keep a straight annoyed face, "kept up the charade until this moment."

"I was a little distracted today," James added, by way of explanation. "Besides, you were acting like an asshole then. I just...wanted to knock you down a peg or two."

"You didn't even break over the dessert course last night at Terroir!" Kendall said incredulously. And that _had _been difficult, but truthfully, the toughest times had always been whenever he was eating something Kendall had made. There was something about taking what Kendall had made with his own two hands and then putting it into his mouth that always made the taste even more exquisite.

Even the batch of peanut butter chocolate chunk cookies that hadn't quite turned out right had nearly made James moan once or twice.

"You were right," was all James said. "They should have used thyme, not rosemary, in the white chocolate lemon mousse pyramids. And you were _definitely _right about the gold; they certainly looked impressive enough."

Katie was laughing so hard she nearly choked.

"You guys...you are..._perfect_...for each other," she managed to get out in between hysterical chuckles.

"You're not mad?" James asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Kendall just shrugged. "You're right. If I remember correctly, that was the morning after I filmed myself baking Ding Dongs. I guess anything you said that day really is just payback for the video. Besides," he lowered his voice, "I definitely plan to get you back, at the soonest possible opportunity."

"Gross," Katie exclaimed, but she was smiling so big, her smile took over her face. And James couldn't help but smile right along with her.

* * *

**Done! So, James has finally met Katie! And James' secret of...well, secretly liking sweets is out. :P**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed! Unfortunately, we've reached the finish line of this story. The next chapter will be the last and will more than likely be up sometime next week.**

**Until then! **

**-Epically Obsessed **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hello again everyone! Welcome to the final chapter of Explosive!**

**Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter and this story in general! I would also like to give a huge thank you to winterschild11, Side1ways, Guest, annabellex2, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!**

**I hope you all enjoy!**

* * *

As shitty as leaving LA had been, it was worse going back.

It was like the fury of a rainstorm after the weatherman warned you to bring your umbrella. Expected, completely inevitable, and very shitty.

"I can't believe you're not worried," James said to Kendall as they walked into the lobby of Five Points. They weren't holding hands, but Kendall liked to think just about everyone could see the growing attachment between them.

"It's pointless," Kendall said. "Has anyone ever convinced Dak Zevon to do something he doesn't want to do?" Besides-and he wasn't quite ready for James to find out about this yet-he'd played the last card he could think of, and if that didn't work, maybe it was right for Pastry by Kendall to die off.

"When I was really lonely last year, sometimes I pictured Chris doing lots of stuff he didn't want...at least initially," James said.

Kendall burst out laughing. "Of course you did."

"Have you _seen_ them?" James demanded, laughing with Kendall. "I mean, that's a lot of hotness to contain in one relationship."

Of course, that was the moment they ran into Dak, in the corridor outside their adjoining cubicles.

He raised an eyebrow. Dak was one of those men who could say a speech and never open his mouth. He definitely looked like he was talking now, even though he hadn't said a single word.

"Who's a lot of hotness to contain in one relationship?"

Kendall thought James was pretty damn brave, but it seemed telling his maybe soon-to-be-ex-boss he'd fantasized about him and his boyfriend was where he drew the line. If that was the case, then James was even smarter than he'd imagined.

"Kendall and me," James said, chin jutting out, like he was half-expecting his boss to disapprove.

But Dak's frown rearranged into a big smile. "Then the long weekend was good for you," he said. His eyes took on a darker, amused glint. "You certainly seem more relaxed, James."

"We're working on it," Kendall inserted, because he could see this conversation going all sorts of inappropriate places. And James, who had seemed so formal and wedded to professionalism when they'd first met, could be shockingly dirty when he was in a good mood. And thanks to Kendall, he was definitely in a _very _good mood.

"I'm glad to hear it," Dak said, sounding genuinely pleased. Kendall found himself praying to whatever God was looking down on them that maybe that was enough to save Pastry by Kendall and James' job. Even if Kendall saved his show and James saved his job, Kendall felt like they could make it. They had each other. Kendall felt certain of that, even if the rest of the world felt unpleasantly uncertain right now.

"Kendall," Dak said, turning to him, a thoughtful look on his face. "Come see me after you get settled in. I think we need to talk."

The moment Dak was out of earshot, James shoved Kendall into his cubicle, excitement and terror warring on his face. "Is this it?" he whisper-yelled. Which, for James, was mostly yelling and very little whispering. "Is he going to cancel your contract?"

Kendall had a very good idea of what Dak wanted to talk about, and it was only tangential to his contract. "No clue," he said. He didn't like lying to James, even if it was a lie of omission, but he wasn't entirely sure James would be happy about this development. Even if it meant his job was saved.

James was one of those sticklers who he imagined might care more about _how _his job was saved, not just that it had been saved. Kendall really hoped that he was wrong in this scenario, but they were still getting to know each other, now that James had actually started to let him in.

Dak was leaning back in his big leather chair when Kendall walked in.

"Close the door," Dak said, and he still sounded thoughtful but not angry. Not angry was good.

Kendall shut the door, sure that James had just gone into a paroxysm of curiosity and tension as he hid around the corner, desperately hoping that he'd be able to overhear their conversation.

Dak knew James better than he realized.

"You sent me this video," Dak said, rotating his gigantic monitor so Kendall could see the screen. Not that Kendall needed to; he knew exactly which video Dak was talking about.

"I thought you might want to see that our rehearsals provided some great footage," Kendall said.

Dak chuckled. "You making a Ding Dong _was _solid gold footage. But," and he paused, that thoughtful look returning, "I don't think you made this during rehearsals. And definitely not with James."

It had been a long shot for Kendall to convince Dak that they had made this video together. It was funny and clever and a little subversive, which was everything that Kendall was, and everything James mostly wasn't. At least the side of James that he tended to present at work. Kendall had discovered in the last few days that he could definitely unbend if he wanted, if his mood right, and he was surrounded by people he trusted.

But Dak probably didn't know that.

Dak frowned, and Kendall realized that he _didn't _know that. James had never really trusted Dak-his beloved boss, the person Kendall might have guessed he was closest to in his whole life-enough to show that side of himself. He'd trusted only Kendall. That revelation only made Kendall more determined to convince Dak that they'd made this clip together.

"James was there. We made it together," he said. He'd heard once that the most effective lies were the simplest. He didn't know if that was even true, but he was willing to give just about anything a shot at this point.

Dak made a frustrated sound, but he still didn't look angry. "I know you're not telling me the truth." He hesitated. "The question is why. Are you worried I'm going to tear up your contract? Are you worried I'm going to send you back to Napa?"

"No," Kendall said, and realized, belatedly, that he meant it. Suddenly the worst thing wasn't that Pastry by Kendall might end, or that he'd be forced to beg for his old job back.

He'd known he loved James, he just hadn't realized how incredibly necessary he was to his life. It wasn't a great time to have this realization, but it certainly provided him a hell of a lot of motivation to pull this off.

"Then what is it?" Dak demanded, a fist landing on the solid wood desk with a heavy thump. Dak's cooking had always been considered bold, bombastic and straightforward. Sort of like the man himself. Kendall just hadn't seen a lot of evidence of it until now.

"Of course I don't want to get fired. Of course I want to convince you to greenlight a season of Pastry by Kendall. Of course I want you to keep the team intact."

"I know you're trying to save him," Dak said. "And you're not alone in that. I've been trying to help him since I first met him, years ago. He's come a long way from that skinny, terrified, overly proud college kid. I know he wouldn't believe me if I told him, but I've always considered him a friend. A close one. But he's never really let me in." He continued softly before shaking his head. "He's a great guy, but that doesn't mean he's right for this show."

"I do love him. But that isn't why I'm doing this. I'm doing this because he's the best fit for the show. For me."

"What if I told you that it was either the show or him?" Dak asked, and that thoughtful look that had reassured Kendall at first now only terrified him. He didn't know what it meant, and the unknown could be a bad place.

"Then I'd say it was an honor to meet you, I'd pack up my cubicle and I'd drive back to Napa today," Kendall said.

"You really would," Dak observed, clearly a little mystified.

"I won't do this without James. Period."

"What if I promised he wasn't fired, that he'd be reassigned to a different department? Would that make a difference?" Dak asked.

Kendall wiped his sweaty, trembling hands on his jeans. "No."

Dak tilted his head, intense eyes cataloging Kendall minutely. Then, suddenly a look flashed across Dak's face like Kendall had just passed some kind of test before he nodded. "Okay, then. Go get James. He's probably loitering in the break room, hoping that he can hear some of this conversation. It doesn't feel fair to leave him out of it."

Sure enough, James was there, pacing with a cup of coffee in his hand. "What's going on?" he hissed.

"Dak wants to talk to both of us," Kendall said and gestured towards Dak's office. "Let's go."

This time Dak didn't ask him to close the door.

"Here's your official shooting schedule," Dak said, almost before their butts were in chairs. He slid a piece of paper across the desk. "But only if you promise me the Ding Dong video stays. It's too funny to cut."

Kendall could feel James' happy confusion radiating out of him, even as he said all the right things: about how they wouldn't let him down, about how they'd commit themselves to making the best show possible, how happy he was that Dak reconsidered.

It was inevitable that as soon as Dak dismissed them, that James would drag him into the break room. It was probably inevitable that Dak had popped his head out of his office and was listening to the whole conversation. It was definitely inevitable that the entire office had tuned in and was listening to their conversation.

"What is Dak talking about, Kendall?" James demanded. "Did you really send him that stupid Ding Dong video?"

"Yes," Kendall said. It was hard to meet James' disbelieving eyes, but he did it. He'd sent it, he had to own up to it. "I told him that we'd recorded it during rehearsals last week. He needed to know that we could do this. Together."

"You lied," James stated, and started to pace again.

"Technically," Kendall said. "But I _know _we can produce content like this together. High production value, that's what you bring to the table. And I can bring the creative flair. I know everything we've done for Pastry by Kendall has been a hot mess so far, but all each disaster has convinced me of is that we're meant to do this together. I don't _want _to do it without you."

"You sent it to Dak without telling me," James said, whirling around, voice and face unbearably hard. Kendall could sense the wall going back up, and he wanted to beg, to plead, to fall to his knees. But with James, those things would fall on deaf ears. That much he'd discovered about the man in front of him. The best thing he could do is go through the wall with all the strength he had and hope for the best.

"I saved the show. I saved your job. I saved our future, working together. Why are you mad?" Kendall asked in exasperation. "Because I didn't tell you ahead of time? Because I lied to your precious Dak? Don't worry, he knows I lied. He knows and he doesn't care."

"I'm mad because you felt you needed to charge in to save me. I can save myself. I don't need your help with that," James said coldly.

"That's what people in love do," Kendall said, leashing in his temper as close as possible. He needed James to realize what he'd been trying to do, not escalate this argument until both of them were so mad that neither of them was listening. That was the mistake he'd always made before. He wasn't going to do it again.

James looked incredulous.

Kendall retrenched and tried to explain again. "I want to be by your side for a long time. Long enough that there's going to be times when I need you. And times you need me. Nobody can be strong and perfect all the time. This time, maybe I helped you. Next time, I'm gonna expect you to be there for me. Hell, that's something you've already done. I sent that incredibly stupid drunk email, and you didn't instantly forward it to Dak. You had my back. The way I had yours today."

"Dak might have fired you for lying to him," James said.

"He might have. I was willing to take that risk."

"Why?" James asked, even though he had to know why. Dak had instantly known why.

"Because I love you," Kendall said, rolling his eyes. "And you know that's why I did it. You know I love you. And you love me too."

"I...I...I don't know about that," James said, sounding unsure for the first time since he'd dragged Kendall into the break room.

"Bullshit. You love me, and I love you." Kendall reached out and pulled James to him. The tension in his body cut like a cord, dissipating almost instantly.

"I might love you a little," James admitted into Kendall's shoulder.

"What? What was that again?" Kendall said loudly, teasingly.

James' head lifted from his shoulder, looking at him straight on.

"I love you, you jerk," And he kissed him.

* * *

"Today, we're going to be making one of my favorite things," Kendall said, leaning on the counter, staring at the camera like they were best friends and not a man and a machine, "a dong."

There was a ripple of laughter through the assembled staff. Carlos Garcia found himself joining in even though the line wasn't new to him. It might have been Kendall's delivery or it might have been who he was delivering it to-regardless, the opening line was just as funny and just as effective as it had been the first time Carlos had heard it.

James leaned against the end of the counter, hip popped, white shirt immaculate, bow tie flawlessly tied. He grimaced comically at his boyfriend's words, and Carlos would never have guessed that this whole exchange was scripted, except that he'd seen it developed and then rehearsed.

"A _Ding _Dong," James corrected crisply. "It's a pastry, which is something I would guess you know about. A chocolate cake to be precise, filled with cream. Don't tell me you need _me _to educate you about a dessert."

Kendall raised an eyebrow at the last part, and another round of laughter circulated through the crowd.

"You like cream-filled desserts, huh?" Kendall asked James, who rolled his eyes.

"Bake, you idiot," James retorted. There was a thread of annoyance in his tone, and the ever-present eye rolls, but he still looked enamored. Probably because he was. Carlos might have doubted it a little-couldn't help but doubt at least a little bit after what the two of them had done to each other-but he couldn't anymore. Not after Kendall had insisted he come to the first few days of taping for moral support, and Carlos had seen firsthand how much they cared about each other.

Carlos was still surprised that Kendall had asked him and not Jett, but then he'd been so angry lately, he probably would have been shitty moral support. And Massimo Bottura never would have given Logan the day off.

That was probably why Kendall had sent him a ticket and asked-more like pleaded-for Carlos to fly down to LA. Carlos had been happy to do it, because Kendall was a friend, and selfishly because Carlos needed a break of his own.

Kendall followed James' command, with a single amused glance shot over to the other side of the kitchen, and started to assemble the dry ingredients for the chocolate cake portion of the recipe. The original concept of Pastry by Kendall had always been Kendall baking, and Kendall still did bake, but now he was also peppered with questions by his producer, who instead of standing behind the camera, stood in front of it.

The concept was new and fresh and it worked like gangbusters. Kendall had told Carlos that they'd initially come up with the idea in a meeting where Dak Zevon had slammed his hand down on the table, interrupting one of Kendall and James' many debates, and said, "You're going to think I'm crazy, but you guys _have _film this. You two are _insane_."

It definitely wasn't like other cooking shows, but it also worked.

Because Kendall was Kendall, and he could sift flour in his sleep, he kept talking.

"Right now we're sifting because we don't want lumps in our dry ingredients. Or stuff that doesn't belong."

James was still watching, eyes narrowed, from the other end of the counter. He had a bunch of papers spread out in front of him, and it was clear that he was still in charge of the episode. He was just doing it in full view of the camera, as ballsy as he'd ever been.

"I don't believe you've ever actually _found _something that didn't belong in the flour," James drawled. Carlos didn't remember this particular dialogue, but Kendall didn't miss a beat.

"Sand, grit, a marble, I think I even found a condom once," Kendall said, flashing a charming smile to the camera, like _can you believe this guy? _"Don't worry though, it wasn't used."

"I'd be a lot more worried if you were finding used condoms in your flour," James said.

"Jealous?" The smile Kendall shot down the length of the counter could have impregnated anyone within a few paces, regardless of gender.

James just laughed. "Of the guys who stuck their condoms in your flour, hoping to get your attention? No. Not even a little."

Carlos realized with a bright, blinding flash why Kendall hadn't invited Jett. How had he found out? Carlos had been so certain that Kendall hadn't realized Jett had that impossible crush.

But he must have, and that was why he hadn't invited Jett. On the other hand, Carlos thought a little bitterly, he was safe because he didn't have a crush on anyone. Okay, that was a lie, but Logan didn't need to know that.

After the way his relationship with Beau had ended, Carlos had been happy enough for a while to stay unattached and single, but watching Kendall and James flirt with each other would make anyone long for even a fraction of what they'd found together.

It wasn't just that he was sick of cleaning artichokes and prepping lamb chops and being held to a painfully precise standard every second he was at work, he was bored and lonely. He'd thought that getting away for a few days and going down to LA to see Kendall and James would help, but all being here did was throw into sharp focus what was missing in his own life.

"They're hilarious, aren't they?" Carlos looked over, and Dak was standing there, grinning like a loon. Or like someone who'd just won the lottery. And he probably had, from an online cooking show perspective.

Kendall had just begun to slowly whisk in the wet ingredients to the dry, and he was waggling his eyebrows, making more and more outrageous comments, aiming for some unknown reaction from James.

"It shouldn't work, but it does," Carlos admitted.

"I knew they could work it out," Dak said. "I'll admit, I had a few dark moments. Once or twice I thought they might kill each other before working it out, but I was happy to be wrong about that."

Carlos had no interest in such a combative relationship, but there was an invisible, undefinable thread between Kendall and James, shining with love and respect and affection. It shouldn't hurt to see it, it should be something to admire, not something to be envious of, but Carlos found he couldn't really help himself. Beau had been his only serious boyfriend, and they definitely hadn't had that.

"Now, I have the Cooking Channel sniffing around my set," Dak said, voice smug with satisfaction. "And the sort of buzz about our new show that I couldn't manufacture what draw our marketing team comes up with."

Carlos reminded himself firmly that he had come here to be a support to Kendall, not to eat his heart out with jealousy over what he'd found, professionally and personally. He _wasn't _Jett.

"They're both very lucky," Carlos said, and no matter how much he tried to regulate his voice, it still came out sadly wry.

Dak put a reassuring hand on his shoulder-Carlos thought that next time he saw Jett, there was now something else he could lord over him-and said, "I know how talented you are. How talented Logan and Jett are as well. Kendall told me all about you guys. The possibilities are endless. Maybe it's time for you guys to leave the nest and explore them."

"With you?" Carlos wondered if maybe this invite had almost been a way to get him down to LA for a job interview. With Dak Zevon. Jett was going to _die_. Especially when he found out the offer apparently extended to him as well.

"Not necessarily," Dak said. "But I know about some open positions in the area. I like to keep my ear to the ground. Would you be interested?"

_Would he be interested? _Carlos didn't even know. All he knew was that he was suddenly and inexplicably sick of his own life. And deep down, he knew that Logan and Jett were as well. He knew how much they all wanted to move on, but there was a certain security at Terroir. He also knew he was tired of trying to make ends meet, of struggling to keep his nana in the home, and having nothing left over for anything else. Sick of being told what to do. Besides, if he could get Logan away from Bottura...maybe something could happen between them.

"I'd be willing to listen, and I think Jett and Logan would be, too," Carlos said.

"Then we'll be in touch," Dak responded, squeezing his shoulder again, then disappearing, merging into a group of people who all seemed to want to ask him a dozen questions.

Back on set, Kendall was carefully pouring his cake batter into molds.

"Now," he said, "we can finally get onto the cream-filling part of the dessert."

"Your favorite part," James inserted.

Kendall's expression turned hot and sweet. "Yeah, you don't enjoy it at all," he retorted, but his voice was so intimate it was impossible not to picture them pressed up together, instead of being separated by six feet of countertop.

"Cut," Alex, the director, called.

"What?" Kendall asked, and James shot him a darker look.

"Dressing room," James said briskly, and Kendall let himself be led off to their green room.

* * *

"What did we talk about before I agreed to do this?" James asked as soon as the door was firmly closed behind them. It was bad enough they were airing out their personal shit for the world to see; he was not willing to do it with three-quarters of their co-workers listening in.

"That there was a line," Kendall said, growing concerned. "Did I cross the line?"

James honestly wasn't even sure if Kendall had crossed the line or if he'd crossed it on his own, but suddenly, he felt hot and cold all over, freaked out by how public this all was. Their relationship, and how they'd learned to make it work, completely exposed to everyone.

It was weird that throwing the doors open would make him feel closed-in, but it was happening anyway and he couldn't help it.

"I'm not sure. Maybe I did, without thinking. However it happened, it happened. I freaked out. And Alex must have noticed."

"You did have a weird expression on your face," Kendall said. He reached out and pulled James close to him. James rested his head on Kendall's shoulder. He shouldn't feel less exposed now, with Kendall wrapped around him, but he inexplicably always did. "I'm sorry," he continued, his voice a warm murmur.

"This isn't easy for me," James murmured back. "I'm the one who's sorry for freaking out all the time."

"You didn't get into this expecting to be in front of the camera," Kendall soothed. "I don't blame you for freaking out about it."

"But I agreed to it," James argued. "I agreed, and I knew exactly what I was agreeing to."

"You agreed because you were thinking with your producer hat," Kendall said, a tiny bit amused.

"I knew it would be great TV," James admitted.

"You're amazing, you know," Kendall whispered into his temple. "I love you so much. Even when you freak out. _Especially_ when you freak out."

"At least you didn't come over and start kissing me," James said dryly.

"I wanted to," Kendall said.

James closed his eyes. "I wanted you to." He hesitated. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

"We can always stop," Kendall insisted. "I told Dak this might not work out, and he's okay with whatever. You know that. You probably know that better than me."

"I don't mean...being in front of the camera is too hard. I mean not crossing the line is harder than I thought it would be. I look over at you, and I want to say what I would usually say, I want to do what I would usually do. And it sucks to hold back."

Kendall's fingers clenched; James felt it through the cotton of his button-up, all the way to his skin. He shivered in response.

"How about you do whatever you feel comfortable with, and we'll just figure out the rest," Kendall suggested.

Their relationship was so new, James was still figuring out how Kendall knew the perfect thing to say to make him feel better.

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?" Kendall asked, running a reassuring hand down James' back.

"Always say what I need to hear."

"I know you," Kendall said seriously. "I love you. I assume the two are somewhat related.

James rolled his eyes, even though Kendall couldn't see it ."I can't believe I didn't know right away what a sap you are. I love it. I love _you_."

"It's only you that brings it out," Kendall admitted. "You know that."

"Thank you for being patient and you know...generally amazing," James said, waving a hand, shockingly unable to verbalize everything Kendall was for him. Which did make sense because he'd discovered that love could very difficult to pin down specifically.

"I told you once, we're going to be what each other needs. A strong relationship doesn't always have two strong people in it. I'm good taking my turn now, and you can take yours later." He paused. "Like during all the marketing and publicity."

James chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You do that," Kendall said, sounding very content, like he never wanted to move.

Someone rapped on the door. James was pretty sure it was Dak.

"Time's up," the voice said. Yep, it was definitely Dak.

"You ready to go back?" Kendall asked.

James knew they didn't have much of a choice, because he was both the producer and the star. He knew they had a strict schedule to keep. "As long as you're next to me. As long as we do this together."

"Always," Kendall said.

* * *

**Done! So, Kames got their happily ever after, and it looks like there's hope for Carlos and Logan! Possibly even Jett. :P**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter and the story in general, as well as if you happened to have any favorite parts/moments!**

**Again, I hope you all enjoyed and that you all are staying safe and healthy out there! I hate to see this story come to an end, but this has been another fun ride and I want to thank you all for supporting me through yet another story. I can't thank you all enough. :) Of course with this story finished, Music Of My Soul will take its place, and I have another story coming soon since Easy only has a few chapters left, so I'll definitely still be around. ;)**

**-Epically Obsessed**


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